


The Sound Of Your Voice

by hpgirl713



Category: Glee
Genre: Canon Dialogue, Epiphanies, Homophobia, Internal Conflict, Internal Monologue, M/M, POV First Person, Pining Dave, So many epiphanies, Unrequited Kurt Hummel/David Karofsky, so much pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-12-25
Updated: 2012-03-05
Packaged: 2018-02-07 14:55:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 28
Words: 44,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1903254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hpgirl713/pseuds/hpgirl713
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Kurtofsky events occuring from "Never Been Kissed" from Karofsky's POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Locker Room Kiss

I hated Mondays already. Today didn't make them much better in my book. I was already pissed off thanks to the pop quiz I just had in Algebra. Stupid variables! What were letters doing in math anyway? They didn't belong.

Speaking of things that didn't belong, I noticed Kurt Hummel walking towards me. Or at least, in my general direction. He had this stupid grin on his face. Why did he deserve to be so happy when I felt so bad? Worse even when I didn't even know what was making me so depressed lately? Why did Hummel look so… misty? Yeah, that was the word for it. He looked content. Peaceful. Why did it  _bother_  me so much?

Why did I even care?

Whatever. Ladyboy Hummel hadn't gotten his daily visit with Mr. Locker yet, and now seemed as good a time as any. But for some reason, I wanted to destroy that stupid phone he was grinning at. It was the source of his happiness, and something about the text he could be reading pissed me off even more!

I slammed the phone down to the ground, and then shoved Ladyface into the locker with more force than usual. Satisfied, I headed to practice. I knew I was going to be early, but changing by myself in the locker room felt more comfortable, so I grabbed at the chance as often as possible.

As I opened my locker, I heard the locker room door slam open with an ear-splitting BAM! I would have turned around in shock, but I already heard Hummel's ridiculously feminine voice screaming at me, so I kept my cool, keeping my poker face to perfection. Secretly, I was panicking. This wasn't what was supposed to happen. I push him, I walk away, and he feels miserable. He comes to school the next day in another ridiculous getup, and we start it all over. But he was  _not_ supposed to follow me into the locker room screaming holy hell! Thank God no one else was there…

"I'm talking to you!" Yeah, I gathered that.  _Why?_  I figured if I outwitted him, I'd have a shot at getting him the hell out of there. A long shot, I know. "Girl's locker room is next door."  _Not bad._

"What is your problem?"  _My_ problem? Not cool. "'Scuse me?" He kept shouting in my face. "What are you so scared of?"

Well I was  _really_  pissed then, so I hit him with a pretty low blow.

"Besides you sneaking in here to peek at my junk?" I felt bad about that one. I knew that wasn't what he was doing.

After spitting that out at him, I did my best to avoid eye contact. Not easy when this shrill little fairy was practically screaming in my face.

He sounded sarcastic then. And to be honest, I didn't blame him. "Oh yeah, every straight guy's nightmare. That all us gays are secretly out to molest or convert you. Well guess what, ham hock? You're  _not_  my type!" I stopped setting my stuff on the bench and turned to face him directly.

Ham hock? Now that was just rude. And it felt like someone had punched me in the chest. I blamed it on the tots at lunch and spit back a biting, "That right?" Nice Dave. Real clever comeback.

"Yeah. I don't dig on chubby boys who sweat too much and are going to be  _bald_  by the time they're thirty!" I winced; silently hoping to God it was only internally. Why don't you pierce harder, Hummel? I don't think you reached my lungs yet.

The insults themselves didn't bother me so much – except for the bald comment.

Honestly, I'm really strangely obsessive over my hair. It was hard walking away that time he made the Supercuts comment. I told him they love walk-ins, but I honestly have no idea. Ever since I was old enough to get haircuts by myself, I've been going to an actual hairdresser. It's no big deal. I like my hair a certain way and Supercuts just didn't cut it – no pun intended.

My point is, I've had insults hurled at me all the time. My teammates, opposing teams, coaches. Why did it feel a thousand times worse hearing them from  _this_  little punk? Especially considering he had  _more_  than good reason for it? All I want now are for them – and him – to stop.

Threats usually work. "Do  _not_  push me, Hummel." I growled and raised my fist menacingly, warning him the only way I knew how. I saw his eyes flash down to my fist, saying "You gonna hit me?". I froze for a minute. Was he really asking if I would hit him?

Apparently it was a rhetorical question, because then he looked straight in my eyes and the next two words that came out of his mouth were "Do it."

WHAT? This kid was freaking  _crazy!_  He just wasn't going to be happy until I punched him in his big, fat, stupid, gay mouth! Well, far be it from  _me_  to deny him what he so clearly wanted.

I had to admit, though; as girly as he dressed and acted and sounded, Hummel was actually a  _tough_ guy _._  Not in the obvious way, but in a way that I definitely had to give him props for. He could stand up to  _me_ anyways. This was probably the first time I could easily think of him as a guy. The muscles in his neck and collarbone stood out and he wasn't smirking in that "I'm-Queen-of-the-freaking-world" way he always does.

I realized how tough he  _had_  to be, dealing with us every day. I never thought about it before, but he always seemed more concerned about his clothes than his actual safety. Was that stupidity, or… bravery? Why did he have to make things so hard for himself?

Either way, that was beside the point. Tough or not, he was soon going to get closely introduced to the Fury!

But I couldn't do it.

I tried to justify it to myself, the fact that I just couldn't make my fist hit his face, eventually deciding that I didn't want to get caught by Beiste, who had lately been all buddy-buddy with the Glee club coach.

Whatever. I'd just try scaring him again. He had to reach a breaking point eventually. Which made me wonder: What was  _my_  breaking point?

I slammed my locker shut, yelling back at him. "Don't push me!"

And he just kept going! "Hit me, 'cause it's not going to change who I am. You can't punch the gay out of me anymore than I could punch the ignoramus out of YOU!"

I could feel it coming now. My breaking point. I could feel it coming and knew it was going to be his own fault.

His face was getting closer and closer and I was getting strangely excited and nervous, because I honestly had no idea what was going to happen. As much show as I put on, I really didn't want to seriously hurt him. I told myself it was because I couldn't get suspended again.

"Get out of my face!" I pointed to the door, but he continued to stand his ground. I could almost feel the fury burning my face from his flashing gray eyes.

That's funny. I could have sworn they were blue before. Yeah, they had definitely been blue. When Azimio and me vandalized the Glee club picture in the yearbook last year, I remembered thinking how blue they were, staring up at me from the unusually happy Kurt in the picture.

Well, it was unusual for  _me_  anyway.

That was the first time I ever really felt guilty about all the things I had ever done to him. Not that it had stopped me. The only thing that had ever halted my attacks was that time his dad was in the hospital. Poor guy had had a heart attack. I only knew because my dad took his car to Burt's whenever he had a problem with his engine.

At school, Fancy looked like anything could push him off of his mental cliff. I knew I couldn't live with myself if I landed Hummel in the crazy house. But that break ended when his dad got better. As soon as everything was back to normal,  _everything_ was back to normal. I couldn't let anyone know I had felt  _bad_ for the kid.

My whole point was that his eye color must change with his mood. And gray must equal pissed the hell off.

But as pissed as he was, it didn't seem like he  _had_ a breaking point. He just kept at it, and screamed, "You are  _nothing_  but a scared little boy who can't handle how extraordinarily ORDINARY you are!"

And that was it. I snapped.

But not the way I thought I would. I didn't hit him. I didn't even shove him like I normally would have. It seemed my brain had other plans. I thanked it later, knowing I could have never and  _would_  have never done this without its help. Because  _it_ knew what  _I_ didn't consciously know. That I  _couldn't_  hit Kurt.

I cared about him too much.

So instinctively, the way you jump for something that falls off a table, even though you have absolutely  _no_ chance of success, I took the hand that was still pointing to the door and, within the smallest fraction of a second, had pulled Kurt into the most  _amazing_  kiss.

If I really wanted to admit it to myself – which I figured I might as well at this point – it was amazing because it was with  _him._

It was hard to believe how much I had wanted him. It was news to me. Whatever I had felt for him, I must have just misinterpreted it as disgust for what he was and satisfaction at trying to squash it out of him.

But what I  _really_ realized at this moment was how in awe I was athis complete lack of care at what everyone else – including myself – thought. How  _jealous_  I was of that freedom.

And it was literally impossible to think of anything else in that moment, least of all the fact that my entire  _life_  was over if I was caught in the middle of the day, in the middle of the public high school, in the middle of the  _locker room_  kissing McKinley's resident homo, Kurt Hummel. It was impossible to think of anything but his soft hair, skin, and lips.

Or the fact that, for these short seconds, they were all  _mine._

After a second of this blissful haze of thoughts in my head, I realized how completely unprepared he was for this. I mean  _I_ sure as hell didn't see this coming, so how could he? I wondered what he could be thinking about my… attack.

Oh my God, I just  _attacked_ his lips!

It was hard to pull away from the kiss – that, though it felt like it could have lasted hours, had actually only lasted about two seconds – but I didn't let go. I let one hand slide from grabbing his face to resting on the side of his soft, soft neck. I let the other slide down from his face, down his chest, and let it rest on his hand that he still had up in front of him from when he was shaking his finger in my face.

His face was shocked. What else could I expect? But instead of rationally analyzing the situation and coming to a logical conclusion about why his expression looked the way it did, my mind wandered to more pleasant things. Like the way the usually unflattering locker room lights hit his chocolate colored hair and – now blue – eyes in an  _extremely_  flattering,  _attractive_ , way. And the soft, flushed color of his  _extremely_ kissable – I now knew by experience – lips.

Everything came together in this small package that had seconds before been screaming in my face. His mouth and eyes, already wide open from shock, fell open slightly more when he registered what had just happened. All I could think about was how  _adorable_  he was and how great I felt after that  _kiss_ , and – without stopping to think again – leaned in for another one.

 _Because_  I wasn't thinking rationally like I should have been, I had completely forgotten that I had made this boy's high school life  _miserable_  and he more than likely hated every fiber of my being. I shouldn't have been so surprised when his small hands started to work again, pushing me away with as much force as he had. And because I completely deserved it, it shouldn't have hurt so much.

But it did. Especially when I saw his expression clearly.

He looked disgusted. There really wasn't any other word for it. It hurt more than I could ever possibly say when he just stared at me with his hand over his mouth, like he was protecting it. He looked so…  _violated._

Then I realized why.

 _Crap_.

This was probably  _his_ first kiss, too. At least,  _this_  kind of kiss. I hadn't really thought much about it – being so distracted by other things – but I was  _pretty_ sure he didn't have much opportunity for relationships.  _Or_ kissing.

If that was true, then I just screwed up that should-have-been-perfect moment for him.  _This_  should have been the moment of his life that he looked back on with pleasant thoughts, maybe even laughing at any slight awkwardness there may have been.

But no.

What Kurt got for his first kiss was an unwanted attack by a homophobic, – apparently closeted – nut job who was chubby, sweat too much, was supposedly going to be bald by the time he was thirty, and had made it his life's mission to make  _Kurt's_  life miserable hell.

The kiss was amazing for  _me,_  but  _he_  deserved much, much better.

It finally dawned on me what I'd just done. I finally realized how  _enormous_  of a mistake this was, no matter  _how_  amazing it was. That, on top of the fact that I had not only just been brutally rejected, but that he could actually  _tell_  someone, didn't make me the most calm or the most rational person in the world.

I knew I had to get out of there before I did something  _else_ I would regret later. Not that I regretted  _this_ in the slightest.  _Ugh._

I was scared and confused and really needed to hit something. That thought right there scared the hell out of me. I slammed the locker, threw one more look at the boy standing in front of me, and walked out, trying more than anything  _not_  to think of what had just happened.

Yeah, like  _that_  was going to happen.


	2. Karofsky Meets Blaine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I didn't know why I wanted him to keep talking. Deep down, I guess what I really wanted was for him to talk about what happened so I could know what was going through his head at the time.
> 
> And I wanted to hear his voice again.
> 
> But I knew we were still at school, and anyone could be listening. So the two sides of my brain were fighting over what telepathic message to send Kurt. Keep talking or shut up.

Things weren't going so bad. I had gone a whole day without seeing Kurt in the halls. I even took longer routes to get to my classes so we wouldn't cross paths. I was late to all of them, but it was worth it. I was leaving my last class of the day feeling pretty decent, considering the circumstances. I even looked around to make sure he wasn't there. And he wasn't.

I should have known it wouldn't be that easy.

I saw them just a half a second before they started talking to me. Kurt was walking up the stairs with this prissy private school boy in a uniform who walked right up and said, "Excuse me". As much as I hated myself for being so horrible to Kurt in the past, I knew I had to keep up appearances. So I did what I had done best for the last few years. I insulted him.

"Hey ladyboys." I looked over at the other boy. I wasn't exactly what you'd call out-of-the-closet yet, but even  _I_  could tell that he was really good looking. Great. "Tch. This your boyfriend, Kurt?"

I had no idea why I asked that. Not only was it none of my business, but I accidentally used his first name. Ever since the… thing, I've been thinking of him as 'Kurt', rather than 'Hummel'. But that mistake was never meant to leave my own head. Anyway, my stupid curiosity got the better of me.

He was looking at me like he was tired of this stupid charade. I didn't blame him. I was too. Problem was, there wasn't a whole lot I could do about it.

I wished he would say something, but stupid pretty-boy had to butt in. "Kurt and I would like to talk to you about something."

I  _really_  wasn't liking the way he said 'Kurt and I'. Especially since no one had denied that he was Kurt's boyfriend. I just wanted to get out of there.

I purposely didn't look at Kurt as I walked past them. "I gotta go to class." I pushed past Kurt, but I didn't shove him, as I would have before. My heart wasn't in it. I just couldn't now.

"Kurt told me what you did." That stopped me. I felt completely betrayed, but I kept my poker face. How could he do that? Since it was only  _one_  person, I guess it could have been much,  _much_  worse, but still. Deny, deny, deny. "Oh yeah? What's that?"  _That's not denial, Dave!_

Finally, Kurt spoke up. "You kissed me." I had been trying as hard as I could to forget all the details, but hearing Kurt say that brought it all back to the front of my mind in crystal-clear detail.

Not only that, but I realized that this was the first time he'd ever spoken directly to me without sarcasm, fear, or anger. I  _really_  liked it. He had sort of a warm voice.  _Stop right now, Dave. Just get out of the situation._ I avoided his eyes and said, "I don't know what you're talking about."

I didn't know why I wanted him to keep talking. Deep down, I guess what I really wanted was for him to talk about what happened so I could know what was going through his head at the time.

And I wanted to hear his voice again.

But I knew we were still at school, and anyone could be listening. So the two sides of my brain were fighting over what telepathic message to send Kurt.  _Keep talking_  or  _shut up._

He looked over at the other guy, who talked again. "It seems like you might be a little confused. And that's totally normal."

I didn't need this right now. I didn't need this guy telling me how I felt.  _Or_  that it was normal. 'Cause it wasn't. There was  _nothing_ normal about this.

I tried to walk away again, and he just kept talking. "This is a very hard thing to come to terms with, and you should just know that you're not alone."

I couldn't take this anymore. Of  _course_  I was alone! My friends sure as hell weren't going to be okay with this. I honestly had  _no_ idea how my parents would react. I'd never heard them give any opinion on the matter, good  _or_ bad. But who  _knew_  how they'd take it?

The one person who  _could_  help me was Kurt, and how could I expect  _any_  sympathy from him? What, was he just going to forget all the Slushie facials and harassment? How about the locker slams and the… kiss?

I was  _completely_  alone, and I  _couldn't take it anymore._

In a matter of seconds, I had turned around and pinned pretty-boy against the wall of the stairs, threatening him with a "Do NOT mess with me!" I was  _pissed,_ and this felt  _good_.

Next thing I knew, Kurt had grabbed my arm and pulled me off. "You have to  _stop_  this!"

Once I realized what was happening, I honestly couldn't believe how horrible and guilty I felt. Of  _course_  Kurt had to protect this guy. He obviously made him happy.

And  _I_  was the one being pushed away.

Again.

I locked eyes with Kurt. He had that disgusted look on his face again at first, but then it softened into gentle embarrassment. I could tell that he was doing what  _I_ was doing at the same moment. Remembering.

I couldn't be around them anymore. I felt sick to my stomach. I swallowed, looked at the two of them, and then turned and walked down the stairs. This was horrible.

I felt like it was elementary school all over again. When having a crush made you the condemned kid. The kid with cooties. Even as you got into high school, you still usually didn't want your crush to know, for fear of rejection. Well I'd already been rejected by Kurt. Twice.  _Brutally_. That, by itself, hurt me enough. But what if rejection wasn't the only reason to keep a crush a secret? What if liking a certain person lost you your friends and made your family see you differently?

What if liking a certain person changed your life forever?

That's why it hurt so much that not only Kurt knew how I felt – or at least what I did – but then he went and blabbed to the person I could only think of now as his  _boyfriend._  It sucked.

I heard Kurt's friend say, "Well  _he's_ not coming out anytime soon."  _No shiz, Sherlock._  I knew they were still talking about me, so I hid down on the next flight of stairs to eavesdrop. I vaguely realized I was going to be late for the bus, but I honestly couldn't care less. I would walk.

"What's going on?" Great. Now he was  _consoling_  him? "Why are you so upset?" I heard Kurt exhale shakily. Was he crying?  _No, no, no! That's not what I wanted!_  "Because up until yesterday, I had never been kissed. Or at least, one that counted." I heard him sniffle again.

_Are you HAPPY now, Dave?_  I internally kicked myself. I  _knew_ I had been right about that. Honestly though, I was really flattered to be his first kiss. I know I shouldn't have been, but I was.

But what did that mean, 'one that counted'? What…? Oh yeah, he had "gone out" with Brittney last year. That was just stupid. Just  _remembering_  the two of them walking down the hallway holding hands and acting like a couple makes me want to laugh.

But  _man_ , I loved his voice. I hoped he would keep talking so I could just listen, but his new  _boyfriend_  spoke up. "Come on. I'll buy you lunch."

Wait, what? Was this a date? I didn't think I could take anymore of this. I felt like I was going to throw up again. I heard them get up and start down the stairs, so I left as quickly as I could.

At least I was walking home today. I needed some time to think.


	3. Karofsky Pushes Kurt Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I hated this whole situation.

I hated this whole situation.

I hated Blaine, who's name I found out when I heard Kurt talking to one of his friends.

I hated walking around everywhere every day feeling like I had been punched in the stomach and kicked in the heart.

And I hated that there was nothing I could do about any of it.

Two days after the whole situation with Kurt and Blaine, I saw Kurt staring at the inside of his locker door. When I got closer, I saw that Kurt had a  _picture_ of pretty-boy in his locker with the word  _COURAGE_ underneath.

That was just too much. I wanted Kurt to hurt the way  _I_  hurt, to understand my pain. So later that day, I did something I swore I'd never do again.

I shoved him into the locker.

There was no excuse and I  _knew_ it. The only good thing was that I tried to concentrate most of the force at his legs, so it wouldn't hurt as much.

Well,  _that_  plan backfired. When I turned around, I saw that he had fallen to the ground. All I could do was look at him with my best poker face, completely torn between just leaving and helping him up. The look on his face told me to just leave.

So I did.


	4. Cafeteria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And I knew I was going to hate myself even more afterwards.

I hadn't made any contact with Kurt in a week and was pretty proud of myself. Honestly, it was really hard. Harder than I thought it would be.

I was eating lunch with the team on Wednesday when I saw him sit with his friend, the loud black girl with him in glee club. Mercedes something-or-other, I think.

It took a minute before the panic settled in. He and Mercedes were bff's, and she would be the most likely person he could tell. And she had a big mouth. If she found out, then everyone would find out.

Obviously, I couldn't hear what they were saying, so I had no idea if they were talking about what I hoped they weren't talking about.

I got up from the table, threw my plate away, and made my way over to Kurt's table. But I didn't know how to get his attention without hurting him or giving myself away. I figured I'd just insult him again. He should be used to that by now, right? Wow. That's just sick. When did I become such a heartless monster?

"'Sup, homo?" I saw him look at me with surprise. When he looked at me, I decided to remind him not to say anything by winking at him. The look on his face was priceless. It almost made me want to laugh.

But I knew it might not help. I had to take extreme measures to make sure that this didn't get out. And I knew I was going to hate myself even more afterwards.


	5. Karofsky's Threat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why did I deserve his sympathy? Why shouldn't he go tell everyone? The best revenge against his tormentor; outing him to the whole school.

The next day, I saw Kurt talking to Mercedes again.

I was completely panicking. Luckily, she didn't look surprised or angry before she walked away, so he obviously didn't tell her  _then._ But who knows when he  _could_  have said something?

I went right up behind Kurt and grabbed his shoulder. He turned around in shock, but didn't look afraid of me. I figured I'd ask him then. "Question for you. You tell anyone else what happened?" He looked confused, so I decided to clarify. "How you… kissed me?"

That was stupid. I think that last comment was mostly wishful thinking. Maybe I just wanted to see if he'd deny it or not.

He did. "You kissed  _me,_  Karofsky." I shushed him before someone in the hallway heard us and then quickly glanced over my shoulder to make sure no one heard any of us. This was a dumb idea. I should have asked to talk to him somewhere private.

Then again, our  _last_ private confrontation didn't exactly end so well.

It was weird hearing him call me 'Karofsky'. Whenever I imagined him talking to me as… well, not my victim, he called me 'Dave' and I called him 'Kurt'. It felt amazing.

And I couldn't help thinking about how great his voice was. Even better than the last time. On the stairs, he had been on the verge of tears. Now there was nothing negative – unless you counted his slight sarcasm. He was just… talking. I loved it.  _Please keep talking._

He did, continuing his sentence. "And I understand how hard this is for you to deal with, so  _no;_  I haven't told anyone."

I believed him, but I didn't. Why did I deserve his sympathy? Why  _shouldn't_  he go tell everyone? The best revenge against his tormentor; outing him to the whole school. Maybe he thought no one would believe him. Or maybe…

 _Oh._  He must not want anyone to know who his first kiss was. Because he was too ashamed.  _Great_.

I didn't want to do what I was about to do. At this point, I would have shaved my head rather than do what I was about to do, if I thought it would help. But it wasn't going to help.

Feeling worse than I'd probably ever felt in my life, almost more than when he'd rejected me in the locker room, I said to Kurt, "Good. You keep it that way. Because if you do… I'm gonna kill you."

There were just no words for the look he had on his face, so I'm not even going to try.

I just walked away. I left him there alone with my last words dangling in front of him. I walked away like I didn't care.

Never let it be said that Dave Karofsky can't act.


	6. Wedding Figurine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was almost getting mad at him. Where was that courage now? Why didn't he listen to Blaine now?

It had been a week since my last… conversation with Kurt, and I was slowly wasting away.

Everyone could tell at home that something was wrong, but obviously no one was able to guess the reason.

Even the guys on the team at school could see my health failing. Azimio came up to me the day before telling me I looked like crap. I went into the bathroom to see what he was talking about.

They were right.

I was a mess. My skin was scary pale and I had barely slept in the last two weeks. My eyelids looked like they had been stung by bees. This was just ridiculous.

But more importantly, I was drawn towards Kurt more than ever. I wanted more than  _anything_  to let him know that what I said was nothing more than an idle threat, and I could  _never_  do something like that, especially not to him. But every time I saw him in the hallways, he would break eye contact, clutch his books closer to his chest or his bag closer to his side, and hurry off to class. The poor guy looked like he was losing it more than I was.

I just wanted… to see him. Up close. One side of my brain wanted to provoke him so he would get angry with me again. Anything was better than this sheer  _terror_  he looked at me with.

And I almost liked him  _more_ when he was angry. Not that I  _wanted_  him angry with me, but he fought back with such passion and determination that I respected him ten times more than I already do. It showed that courage and strength that was so… attractive.

Huh. As much as I've thought about him, I haven't thought the word  _attractive_ since that day in the locker room _._  In fact, I tried to avoid it as much as possible. And it was weird that I found him  _more_  attractive when he was angry, considering that was also when I found him much less girly and  _so_  much more masculine.

It was hard to think that, even to myself. I had tried so hard to convince myself that these feelings stemmed from the fact that he acted like such a girl all the time. Accepting the fact that he  _was_  a boy and I was  _still_ ridiculously attracted to him meant that I had to finally admit that I was… well, I'd think about that later. Right now, I just wanted to talk to him.

I wasn't going to do it, though. I told myself over and over that the best thing would be to just ignore him from now on. Best for  _him,_  anyway.

But then I saw him talking to Hudson.

I wasn't exactly sure what the deal was with them anymore, but everyone in the school knew Kurt had had a major crush on him last year. I had seen how he looked at him. The boy had been hopelessly in love. It was the most obvious thing in the world.

I knew Hudson wasn't gay – then again, he could have said the same about  _me_  – but I got furious when I saw him pat Kurt on the shoulder and even more so when I saw Kurt smiling.

I didn't think. I had to go see him.

He pulled something out of his locker and closed it just as I reached him. I had  _no_ idea what I was going to do. I wanted to let him know I wouldn't hurt him without letting the whole school know the same thing. So I tried to look intimidating, but I also tried to tell him through my eyes that I wouldn't do anything to hurt him.

He obviously wasn't getting it. He looked so scared, though it was pretty well masked by disgust. He looked at me and said "I don't want you near me".

At that, the floodgates in my mind flew open with a crash.  _Oh yeah? Well there are things that_ I  _don't want either, Kurt. I don't want to have to be ashamed of who I have feelings for. I don't want to think about you every single day. I don't want to love the way you look in those ridiculous expensive clothes you wear. I don't want to want to grab you and kiss your stupid, perfect lips every time I look at you. I don't want to be jealous of every guy you talk to. I didn't want you to go tell your stupid, perfect, gorgeous boyfriend what happened. I don't want you to hate me. I don't want to have to hurt you anymore! And I sure as hell don't WANT to be gay! Since when do people get what they want?_

And there it was. I admitted to myself I was gay. (And apparently that I found Blaine gorgeous. Didn't matter; Kurt was much,  _much_  better in  _my_  book)

Not that I didn't already know, but I was surprised at how good it felt to finally be able to say the word out loud in my own head.  _Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to tell someone else._ Then I remembered what we'd done to Kurt. Admitting it to myself was one thing. I couldn't give myself Slushie facials, throw myself in the dumpster, shove myself into lockers, or beat myself up. And I sure as hell couldn't throw  _myself_  off the team.

So I'd wait. Maybe someday I could tell people, but not now. Right now, I'd just focus on being ok with it. That sounded healthy enough.

I broke out of my life-changing epiphany to find that Kurt was still standing there: probably waiting for me to explain myself.

I didn't miss that he zoned in on my lips more than anything. Maybe he was trying to see any signs that I would try to kiss him again, and wanted to be prepared.

Smart boy. It was definitely something I wanted to do.

To keep up appearances, I poked him in the chest and stared down at him with what I  _hoped_  looked like intimidation to everyone but him. Though I could feel his accelerated heartbeat through his soft jacket, he didn't even flinch.

I could  _feel_  the tension between us. It felt like I was being suffocated, like the air wasn't air, but cotton or even heavy fog.

I looked him in the eyes more intensely than I ever had before, flickering from one eye to the other.  _There_  was the blue I remembered from the yearbook. It was a deep, deep blue, like sapphires. Electric blue. I found myself getting dizzy.

After a moment, I knew I wouldn't win our little staring contest. The determination in his face made me want to laugh. And he almost had an unfair advantage with what he did to me. Did he even  _know_ how he made me feel? Judging by how he acted around me, I doubted it.

I didn't laugh, but I  _did_  smile. I couldn't help it. He just looked so small and helpless. I'd never noticed before. He seemed much taller when he'd yelled at me that day. Seeing him stand up to me despite his terror, without the verbal punches, was amazing to me.

But I couldn't help noticing that his face was slowly dropping the brave façade he had been trying to hold up. He was looking more and more disgusted, probably due to my smiling like a creepy pervert. I had to be more careful.

I knew this had to be our last confrontation, if I could stay away. It would be best for both of us. Especially him. So I tried to get as much out of it as I could. It wasn't easy with the halls swarming with students – or witnesses. Like the time I threatened him, I wished I had done this in private. I found this time, though, that I didn't care as much. Huh. Weird.

I spotted the wedding figurine in Kurt's hand – the object he seemed to have removed from his locker as I had walked up. My jealousy and bitterness at Hudson welled up again in full force. What, did Kurt want to take the cake topper home and play wedding?

Everyone wanted stupid, perfect boys like Hudson, Blaine, Puckerman, and even that new Sam Evans guy. All the girls did, and apparently so did Kurt. What was the big deal?

Obviously, I didn't know much about Blaine and Evans, but Puckerman had almost been a worse bully than Azimio and me. I may have shoved Kurt into lockers once in a while and teased him about his outfits, but I never threw him into dumpsters like he did. I guess Hudson had stood up for him once in a while, but not very often. All he did was make sure Kurt's stupid jacket didn't get thrown in the dumpster; not Kurt. And now Kurt and all of his friends accepted them like nothing had ever happened. Could the same happen with me?

I doubted it. And it wasn't fair.

Ok, to be honest though, I  _had_ threatened to kill him. I guess I had just thought that he might not believe me. It didn't seem like he realized how much I  _wanted_ him. What, was a kiss not enough? Did a kiss not show that there were feelings deep down? If he didn't get it now, I doubted he ever would.

I just had to try harder.

I dragged my finger down his chest, feeling sparks flying up my arm from the contact. Most of the students had made their way out of school to go home, so the hallway was almost empty. I wanted to bring my hand to his arm and console him, telling him I'd never hurt him like that anymore. My heart raced at the thought of feeling his perfectly soft skin again, if I grabbed his hand. I was really going to do it, too.

That plan didn't go so well. My bitterness flared back up when my hand encountered the figurine in his. I had forgotten that he'd hurt me too.

Instinctively, stupidly, like the bully I am, I snatched it from his hand.

I looked him full in the face. His disgust had dropped from his face completely; leaving nothing but the pure terror I now saw whenever I thought of him.

I was almost getting mad at him. Where was that  _courage_  now? Why didn't he listen to Blaine  _now?_ Why couldn't he stand up to me again? Was he too afraid? It was strange how he seemed even more frightened of me now that I had actually  _stopped_  physically hurting him. I wanted him to fight back. It didn't look like he would though.

I tried to provoke him; bring his anger back up to the surface "Can I have this?" He just looked at me. No anger. No determination. Just pure, unadulterated fear.  _You can't fix this._

I knew I couldn't. I knew there was no way to take back anything I had done or said to him anymore. I had just gone too far this time. I had missed my chance.

So I finally gave up, looked him in eye, and said in my least threatening voice, "Thanks."

He probably thought I was being sarcastic, 'thanking' him for keeping quiet about me taking the figurine. I was really thanking him for not saying anything about what happened. It meant more to me than he would ever know.

At least I had something of his to remember him by. I walked away, as hard as it was, and pocketed the figure.

_I'm sorry._


	7. Karofsky vs The Glee Boys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had to admit; Kurt had some amazing friends. I seriously wondered for a minute if any of my so-called friends or teammates would do this for me if I were ever in this situation.

My way of dealing with the whole Kurt situation was to just not talk to anyone.

That was about it. I just kept my head down and kept invisible. All I wanted to do was mope. I wanted to wallow in the mixture of self-pity and self-loathing I had made for myself. I had no desire to do anything or talk to anyone.  _Is this depression?_  I didn't doubt it.

That plan didn't work for very long. The next day, I was in the locker room after football practice. I barely remembered anything. It was like I was numb.

I was putting on my belt when Mike Chang and Artie the wheelchair kid came up to me.  _Uh-oh._

Artie spoke up first. "Stop picking on Kurt." At Kurt's name, my defenses went up. All my muscles went frozen. I tried to get them to leave. "You mind? I'm changing here."

Then Mike came right up to me. "We're serious." He reached over and slammed my locker shut. "This is a warning." I tried to act amused. "Oh yeah?" Artie piped back up. "From now on, you're going to leave him alone."

I was already almost at the end of my rope. "Look."  _Ugh_. I really didn't want to say what I was about to say, but I knew I had to keep up appearances. "If he wants to be a homo, that's up to  _him_. Don't rub it in my face." Ah, the irony.

It was true though. It  _was_ up to him. What he didn't realize, apparently, was that he rubbed it in my face every single day, just by him being there, wearing his tight jeans and putting all that shiny, scented crap in his hair and… and…

 _Uh-oh._ I had to get out of that locker room, pronto: before any of the sentences in my head started pouring out of my mouth. (And  _trust_  me; it would be  _just_ my luck for that to happen.)

But his Glee buddies wouldn't let it go. Artie replied, "We're  _not_ asking you."

I had to admit; Kurt had some amazing friends. I seriously wondered for a minute if any of  _my_ so-called friends or teammates would do this for me if  _I_ were ever in this situation. Well…  _publicly_ in this situation.

And then I realized… they wouldn't. What kind of friends did I have if they wouldn't even stand up for me for something this huge?

I was broken out of my reverie when I heard Mike's voice. "Yeah, we're  _done_  talking about this." He stepped closer, until he was  _really_  in my face. "Just BACK off, all right?"

I lost it. The  _last_  time a boy was yelling in my face in front of my locker, I ended up kissing him. I wasn't going to kiss Mike, of course, but it painfully reminded me of that day, and I was  _so_ done. "Look, YOU back off!" I shoved him away.

I guess I shoved a little too hard though, because he ended up falling on top of Artie, knocking them both to the ground.

 _Major oops!_ I knew I had to get out of there, fast.

I barely walked two steps when Evans rushed towards me in attack mode. Instinctively, I grabbed him and threw him against the lockers behind me.

From that point on, I just saw red. My brain went on autopilot and I fought back blindly, barely registering any pain or our audience in the locker room.

Through the throbbing combination of adrenaline and testosterone I vaguely found myself pinned violently against another locker and punching Evans in the eye. Next thing I remembered, Beiste ran into the room, yelling and pulling me off of him. Huh. I didn't even remember knocking him to the ground. It must have been when I punched him, I guess.

The blood was still pounding in my ears too loudly to hear anything, so Coach was pretty muffled for a minute. By the time I could hear clearly, she had a hand on each of our chests, keeping us separated, yelling, "What the hell's going on here?" Evans looked royally pissed and had the beginnings of a bad bruise around his left eye. I looked over at Beiste.

 _Wow, Coach. You have_ no  _idea._


	8. Dancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was now fully comfortable – again, in my own head – admitting that I had a crush on Kurt.
> 
> It was nice. I hadn't had a real crush on anyone before.

The rest of the day passed pretty uneventfully. Evans had mumbled some excuse to Beiste and I was quick to agree with whatever he had said. Neither of us got in much trouble. We just had to run a few extra laps at the next practice. No big deal.

The whole situation had gotten me thinking, though. It really didn't seem like Kurt had said anything to  _anyone._ These guys were his best friends. If they knew that I had kissed him, I was pretty sure they would have had something more to say. I had  _figured_  he hadn't said anything about the kiss, anyway.  _Why would he want to broadcast it to the world?_

But he apparently hadn't said anything about my threat, either. I'm sure if his friends knew I had threatened to  _kill_ him – which I will  _always_ hate myself for – I would have gotten in a  _whole_ lot more trouble.

I was sure Kurt only kept quiet because he I scared the hell out of him, but I wholeheartedly appreciated it nonetheless.

I didn't have practice after school that day, so I took a different route to leave school. I realized too late that  _that_ route took me right past the choir room, where glee club met after school. I was surprised when I got there and saw only two people in the room. I was  _stunned_  when I realized it was Kurt and Hudson.  _What are they doing?_

A piano was playing in the room. Kurt looked like he was trying to talk Hudson into doing something. His arms were held up in a slightly awkward, bent position. Was he trying to get him to hug him or something?

Suddenly, Hudson sighed and took Kurt's hand.

_…_

They were  _dancing? WHAT THE HELL?_

My jealousy was boiling over as I tried vainly to keep control of my temper. But I was only allowed a second of shock before Hudson looked towards the doorway and saw me standing there. To cover up my embarrassment at getting caught, I teased him with a lame 'what a sissy' gesture. Then I realized Kurt hadn't seen me yet, so I decided to get the hell out of there. Unfortunately, he looked over before I could.

 _Crap._ I  _really_ hadn't wanted him to see me. I didn't want him to think I was making fun of  _him_ , because I really wasn't this time. It was stupid, perfect-boyfriend-material Hudson I had gestured to.

I was done messing with Kurt. It was just  _so_ unfair to him. He had kept up his end of the bargain and not said anything, and I didn't want him to be as afraid of me anymore. I figured that would be the first step towards… something. Anything. Anything that would bring me at all closer to getting in his good books. I had a master plan.

Step One: Stop harassing him.

Step Two: …

Uh, I didn't really have a step two yet. I guess I had an  _unfinished_ master plan. Well… it was a  _plan_ , anyway.

It had been two days since my little epiphany. Since then, I had been thinking it over and thinking it over. I was now fairly comfortable saying the word 'gay' in my own head. Actually, I could even  _refer_  to myself with it in my own mind.

I had  _even_  tried a few times saying it into a mirror out loud when my parents were out… and my door was shut and my windows were closed and I was sure no one was listening.

I couldn't do it. I knew it made me the biggest idiot and coward in the world, but I just  _couldn't say it out loud._

I still felt like I was making progress, though. I was now  _fully_  comfortable – again, in my own head – admitting that I had a crush on Kurt.

It was nice. I hadn't had a real crush on anyone before. I knew you were supposed to go through that phase early on in elementary school, but I now realized that any girls I had "had a crush on" from elementary school on were just the girls every other boy liked. The peewee cheerleaders in elementary school to the volleyball-playing girls with their short shorts in junior high to the Cheerios in high school. A buddy of mine would say something like "Isn't she cute?" or "Check out  _that_ chick." and I would agree just to agree. I didn't realize until now that it wasn't attraction; it was practically mob mentality.

I  _loved_  having a  _real_  crush, though. As long as no one knew about it, I was free to think of Kurt without insults and think of him the way  _I_  wanted to. As the attractive and funny and smart and talented and  _amazing_ boy he was _._ Even if I could never have a real shot with him, I could still  _see_ him around school and  _think_ about him if I wanted to.

Not in a creepy or weird way, of course. But I mean, I could think of walking down the hall holding his hand and dropping him off at class, laughing next to him and talking to him like every couple in the school. I could imagine  _being_ one of those couples.

 _Man._ If I hadn't screwed things up so badly…

Before I got very far down the hall, I felt someone grab my arm roughly and violently throw me against the wall. Before I could figure out who it was, they had their arm against my throat, holding me to the wall by a fistful of my jacket. After a shocked "What the hell?" I quickly realized it wasn't a student, but an adult who had me pinned to the wall.

Whoever it was was  _furious._ "You  _like_  picking on people? Why don't you try  _me?_ " I still had no idea what he was talking about or who he was. But something about the way his eyes flashed gray with anger seemed uncomfortably familiar…

Suddenly, I registered the fact that Kurt and Hudson had showed up and were attempting to pull him off me. Of course.  _Why am I not surprised?_ It was justmy luck for  _Kurt_  to be involved with this somehow. It seemed like I couldn't keep away from him no matter how hard I tried.  _Maybe that's not such a bad thing…_

Then I heard Hudson shout at the man. "Burt!  _Stop!_ " Kurt was less firm, seeming more desperate than anything else. I glanced over at him.

 _That_  was a mistake. He was looking at the guy with an expression that immediately shot down every wall I had been building up since I first realized I was attracted to him. In that moment, I would have done _anything_  to wipe that terrified, desperate look off his face. I had never seen him look so…  _vulnerable_. Usually he had an obvious appearance of 'I'm better than you and I know it'. Normally, it was pretty funny. And adorable.

But  _this_ … It made me want to viciously beat down whoever had caused that look on his face.

Oh. Right.

I tried to snap out of it, concentrating on the situation I was still in.

Kurt was still weakly tugging at his arm. "Please! You're sick." It was like he was trying to calm the man down while Hudson was actually trying to pull him off me.

Burt? Sick…? It finally clicked.  _Oh! This is his dad._ I suddenly remembered that he had had a heart attack recently.  _Uh-oh._ All this excitement couldn't be good for him.

Luckily, he calmed slightly at his son's touch. Kurt continued to try to coax him away. "Come on." He finally let go of me. Reluctantly. As soon as he did, I locked eyes with Hudson, who was standing right in front of me.

I hated him. It was beyond stupid and completely irrational, but I did. I wanted to tear him apart. Inwardly, I was practically shaking with jealousy and fury.

But I knew he made Kurt happy, and I was no longer going to interfere with anything or anyone that did that.

So rather than fight back or lash out like I normally would, I put on my best 'I'm totally cool, nothing can faze me' face, adjusted my jacket, and walked away, glancing once more at Kurt's face. His face was slightly flushed and he was breathing heavily from all the sudden excitement. Honestly? It was pretty hot. And hell, if  _that_  thought alone wasn't progress, I didn't know  _what_  was.

But more importantly, he was finally looking me in the eyes. It had more effect on me than I care to admit. It was  _ridiculously_  hard to break eye contact, since I had wanted nothing more for the past week. But I knew if I looked at him any more, my whole façade would crack in a second and all of my hard work would have been for nothing.

So, as hard as it was, I walked away, feeling all their eyes burning into the back of my head. But I knew this wasn't over. The look in Mr. Hummel's eye told me that more clearly than if he had shouted it at me. I could tell that was one guy you did  _not_ want to mess with. I could only imagine what was going to happen.

What torture did I have to look forward to?


	9. Maybe He Likes Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If I had to name the exact moment I fell in love with Kurt Hummel, it was in that minute in Principal Sylvester's office. And you know what? I didn't even mind a little bit.

A parent conference?  _This_ was the torture Mr. Hummel had in store for me?

The guy knew how to hit you where it hurts.

Normally, I would consider this kind of meeting lame in the most  _epic_ sense of the word, but I was pretty terrified of what Kurt had told his dad and what either of them could say in the meeting. More than terrified. I was  _panicking._

_Maybe I can still fake appendicitis._

I was sitting in Principal Sylvester's office with my dad, Kurt, and  _his_  dad. And I was seriously considering faking appendicitis. Not that I wasn't ecstatic to be in the same room as Kurt for a few minutes where I didn't have to ignore him or hurt him, but the situation wasn't exactly ideal.

I wasn't making eye contact with anyone; wondering desperately how I could deny everything I'd done without exactly… lying.

Principal Sylvester spoke up first after a few moments of awkward – for my father and I – and angry – for Kurt and his dad – silence. "So it seems this situation's reached a boiling point."

Mr. Hummel snapped out of his death glare towards me to face Ms. Sylvester. "You're damn right it has!" I was really confused. If this had to do with yesterday, I hadn't done anything too terrible, and it wasn't even directed at Kurt. If it didn't… well, I didn't know what I'd done. So I faced Ms. Sylvester, too. "Nothing happened." I insisted. And it was true, as far as I knew.

Kurt's dad faced me again. I have never been so afraid of someone as I was of him in that moment. You could literally  _feel_ his burning fury. Same as Kurt that day in the locker room – when I still thought I hated him.  _Huh. Must be a Hummel thing._

You could hear it in his voice, too. "I'll tell you what  _really_ happened." He turned towards my dad as Kurt stared at his hands on his lap. "Mr. Karofsky –" Dad interrupted. "My name's Paul." Mr. Hummel obliged, almost sarcastically. " _Paul._ Your kid threatened the life of my son."

 _Uh-oh! Damn!_  I guess Kurt had finally told someone. I immediately started panicking even more.  _Did he tell his dad_ why _I had threatened him?_

Dad slowly looked at me with a surprised and embarrassed look in his eyes. I was reluctant to look straight at him. Luckily, Principal Sylvester cut in, questioning Kurt. "Porcelain? Is that true?"

As serious as the situation was, I almost laughed out loud. Porcelain? That was her nickname for him? I had to admit; it totally fit him. I looked him over once, noticing how creamy pale he was and how perfectly smooth his skin was… He really did look like a delicate porcelain doll.

I noticed him nodding, answering the principal's question. He looked like he didn't actually want to answer. I felt a sudden rush of gratitude and affection as I realized that he didn't tell his dad – or anyone else – willingly. It sounded like it was probably  _dragged_ out of him.

I struggled to keep the amusement out of my voice – since I was still internally laughing at his nickname – as I weakly tried to backpedal my threat. "That's  _not_ true. I didn't say anything."  _Hmm._ I was actually impressed at how innocent I sounded.

Unfortunately, Kurt cut me off. "That's what he said." I looked over and saw that he was finally looking straight at me. He had a look on his face that clearly said he was done with this, and it was going to end here one way or another.

He continued, glancing over at the principal. "He said he'd kill me if I told anyone." She was quick to pick up on that. "If you told anyone  _what?_ "

My blood ran cold.

This was it. My life was over. All Kurt had to do to get me suspended, or even expelled, was tell the truth about what I had done. Defeated, I looked over at him, expecting a quick answer.

He  _looked_  at me.

I didn't even question it at first. I just stared back at him,  _begging_ him with my eyes not to say anything. I honest-to-God thought he would completely ignore my silent pleading.

But he just stared into my eyes. And for once, it wasn't in anger or fear or determination. It was like we were having a silent conversation. It was... intimate. And before I could say anything - or breathe - he began to answer. His eyes never left mine as he said the seven words that saved my life.

"Just…"

( _Argh!_ It was like he was messing with my head on purpose, licking his lips like that, just a couple feet away from me.)

"…that he was picking on me."

 _Wait. Wait, wait, wait. Did… Did Kurt Hummel just blatantly_ lie  _to_ three _adults to_ help _me?_ He did! I was saved! Hallelujah!

And I could tell from the look in his eyes and the tone of his voice that he would have done it whether I had threatened him or not. He had kept my secret of his own free will.  _He would have done it anyway…_

If I had to name the exact moment I fell in love with Kurt Hummel, it was in that minute in Principal Sylvester's office. And you know what? I didn't even mind a  _little_  bit.

As much as I wanted to run over and kiss him and thank him over and over I struggled to remember the big picture and  _why_ I couldn't do just that. So as I laughed with relief and looked over at him with ardent gratefulness, I blurted out the first defense that popped into my head. "He's making all this stuff up."  _Well… That's not exactly a lie, actually._

But Mr. Hummel didn't know that. He was back to sarcastic mode. "Oh, is that right?" Then Dad piped up, finally recovering from way-too-much-information-to-take-in-in-too-little-time. "Hold on a second. You have been acting differently, David. You used to get A's and B's, you're talking back, you're acting out. And now we're sitting here." I could suddenly clearly feel everyone's eyes on me.

I couldn't help but glance around the group surrounding me. First from my dad to Kurt's dad to the principal to Kurt. Finally, I broke away from eye contact with anyone. Mostly because Kurt was still staring at me. And that was very distracting.

Dad was still talking. "So let me ask  _you._ " He pointed to the boy sitting across from us. "Why would Kurt make that up?"

I knew exactly why Kurt would make that up. And if I had  _one-sixteenth_ the courage he had, I would have just  _told_  everyonethe exact reason Kurt would make that up.

But I  _didn't_ have any of Kurt's courage. All I had were my ridiculous instincts of self-preservation. Without planning it, the next words out of my mouth turned out to be pure wishful thinking  _and_ seemed tohold up my mask, insulting Kurt at the same time.

"Maybe he likes me."

I didn't dare sneak a glance at Kurt after realizing how much I wanted that statement to be true; though in my peripheral vision, it  _looked_ like he rolled his eyes.  _Shoot..._

Instead, I smiled and shrugged at my dad like the comment was a joke. He looked back at me with a face that clearly questioned my sanity. I almost felt bad for him. He just seemed  _so_ out of the loop. Poor guy.

Kurt's dad was back to glaring at me like he could burn my face off, now with an obvious undertone of impatience. "I think we are  _wasting_ our  _time_ here." He turned to glare at the principal with the look he had just nearly killed me with. "It's  _your_ job to protect the people."

She nodded at him. "Couldn't agree more." She looked over at Dad and me. "After hearing both sides of the story…you are hereby expelled." I looked at her, raising my eyebrows. It was more of a 'really, now?' type look than anything else. I'd been expecting something like this. And, I completely deserved it. She continued. "I will not have one student threatening the life of another. If you don't think this is fair, well, you can take it up with the school board." She paused, then added, "And you'll leave campus immediately."

Now  _that_ was hard to take.

I had already planned on the idea of getting expelled, once I knew why I was in trouble. But I thought I'd have more time. I had prepared myself and made plans for what I could say to Kurt in the hall before…

Before I never saw him again.

I hadn't fully understood the fact that if I were expelled, then I wouldn't see him anymore. Ever. I didn't get it until I saw him breath out in obvious relief. That relief broke my heart.

I looked over at him as Dad thanked the principal for her time or something. I couldn't care less. All I knew was that I had about ten more seconds of Kurt. Ten seconds to look at his face and remember it. Thank God he looked even more amazing than usual, somehow. The green of his shirt made his skin look creamier than ever and the cream of his sweater made his eyes look…  _amazing_.

But, infuriatingly, he hid those eyes by looking down at his hands. It was like he was  _ashamed_  of what he had said in the meeting. Like he thought he betrayed me.  _I don't_ think  _so, Kurt._ Eventually, he must have felt the intensity of my stare, or at least the fact that I walked past him, because he looked up just long enough to watch me leave.

I shook my head at him, realizing too late that he would probably misinterpret it as disappointment. I wasn't disappointed in the least. I was  _proud_ and  _grateful._  I was shaking my head to tell them there was nothing to worry about. He didn't do anything wrong.  _I_  did.  _I_  was the jerk.  _I_  was the bully.  _I_  was the one with a problem.

And finally,  _I_  was the one who was going to pay for it.

In about three seconds, –  _Wait! Where the_ hell _did my ten seconds go?_  – I was out the door.

And that was it. No big spectacle. But no more Kurt Hummel. No more knowing I'd see him every day. No more crystal clear memories at the simple sight of his face.  _No more Kurt Hummel…_

_No more Kurt…_

_No more…_

_No…_

I was actually  _really_ thankful Dad was taking me straight home. I was exhausted. I needed a break from reality. I  _seriously_ needed a nap.

_Maybe I won't remember._

_Yeah. Right._


	10. Bruce Springsteen and the 10 am Slushie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You didn't have a crush on Hummel. You didn't have a crush on Hummel. You didn't have a crush on Hummel...

Well, I was back at McKinley.

Don't ask me how. The time that passed from the meeting with Kurt and his dad and now had been a complete blur to me. All I know is that one minute I'm at home wallowing in self-pity, keeping my U2 playlist on constant repeat and then the next thing I know, I'm being stuffed into a suit and tie and dragged to some meeting with the school board. Against my will. Seriously. I could probably charge my father with kidnapping or something. The only thing I remember clearly from these last weeks was arguing with him, telling him that I didn't want to go. That I  _really_ didn't want to go. That I really, really,  _really_ didn't want to go. But he didn't listen. Of course.

Not that I wouldn't be  _thrilled_  with seeing Kurt again, but I had done some heavy thinking after that meeting. I honestly didn't think there was anything I could do to rehabilitate my image in his eyes. And I didn't think my heart could take that look on his face when he passed me in the hall. It was already burned into my brain forever. I didn't need to see it up-close and and in person every single day.

 _So_ my dad threw around words like 'good kid' and 'just a phase' while the board threw around more words like 'no witnesses' and gave me a stupid, empty little warning not to do it again.  _Yeah. I kinda figured that out for myself, thanks._

And then I was back. Nothing had changed. The Gleeks were still losers and we still Slushied them at every chance we got. (I felt kinda bad about the Holiday Slushie, only because who knows  _what_  kind of crap is in slush from the parking lot.  _Yeesh_.) The football team welcomed me back with open arms—minus the Glee boys, of course. Everything was exactly the same as it was before any of this started happening. With one exception.

Kurt was gone. And it was all my fault.

I had looked everywhere for him when I got back. He wasn't in any of my classes and I didn't see him in the hallways. But then I overheard the Glee guys in the locker room talking about it. They had said that Kurt had transferred to Dalton Academy.

So I went home and Googled it and found a home page for the school. Every guy in the pictures wore the same uniform and I felt a sharp pain in my chest when I realized that it was the school that pretty-boy Blaine went to. The pain gradually dulled into a heavy, somehow hollow ache in my stomach.

Fine. Great.

Kurt should be happy now. He was at a better school with better people and his…  _boyfriend_.

And me? I decided to forget anything had ever happened. Simple enough. I tried to convince myself that with Kurt out of the school, my stupid little… whatever the hell it was, would leave with him. I tried to convince myself that I  _never_ had a crush on a guy, and  _certainly_ not on Hummel. I knew I was lying—badly—to myself, but I figured it would be enough to last me until I got out of this stupid town. With him gone, I would forget about Kurt Hummel.

I should have figured that would be easier said than done.

Not long after my return, I was getting ready to leave football practice. I had completely reverted back to numbness and was perfectly happy following the leader again. I tried not to do anything I didn't have to and didn't really talk unless I was expected to.

Puckerman stood on one of the benches when I was closing up my locker. He tried to get our attention. "Hey, listen up!" Azimio immediately grinned and shot back, "You gonna light your farts on fire again? Because I am a  _major_  fan!"  _Oh, God_ _._ I didn't realize until just now how dumb my 'friends' were. But they were still popular. It didn't quite make sense anymore, but being in the group, I didn't question it and I didn't complain.

Puck ignored him. "I wanna talk to you guys. About Bruce Springsteen."  _Bruce Springsteen, dude?_  Yeah. I was  _so_ not in the mood for this. "Is this going somewhere?"

His temper immediately flared up and he pointed right at me. "Don't push me Karofsky!" I looked over to Azimio to see how he was reacting to this when Puck continued. "You forced my boy Kurt outta here, and juvie or no you're already number one on my list to go all Death Star on!" I looked back at him at Kurt's name and felt a sharp jab in my lower abdomen before I caught myself.

 _You didn't have a crush on Hummel. It's best that he's gone. You're better off._ He's  _better off. You_ didn't  _have a crush on Hummel…_

So why did I feel like this? I didn't have time to process it before I saw Azimio looking at me funny. So I put my game face back on. It was hard.

Not only did I feel bad now that Kurt wasn't here  _in general_ , but it seemed he had gotten close enough even with the (ex?) resident badass of McKinley for said badass to call him 'his boy'. It was almost like they were… bros. Or whatever. That was… cool. I guess. If I repelled all thoughts of how much I wished he was  _my_ boy…

_You didn't have a crush on Hummel. _You didn't have a crush on Hummel._ _You didn't have a crush on Hummel...__

Puck went back to his speech. I broke out of my repetitive mantra and tried to act amused during it, seriously wondering now where this was going. "Anyways… So Bruce is destined to go blue-collar his whole life. But instead he goes and buys an old Strat from a pawnshop and just starts wailing on it. He starts putting all the pain and the promises and the dreams into that music. And the next thing he knows he's on the cover of Time and Newsweek in the same week."

During his speech, I found myself glancing over at Azimio more than once. Apparently I cared about these guys' opinions more than I thought. It was like I needed their approval before  _I_ approved anything.

Puck obviously thought we were complete idiots, because he felt the need to clarify. "Those are magazines."  _Uh, duh?_ Azimio was quickly losing patience. "Not to seem redundant, but is this  _going_ somewhere?" Finally,  _finally_ Puck got to his point. " _Glee club_ , dudes! It's time to join up!"

He… should have kept quiet.

You could  _feel_ the tone of the room change immediately. Once again, Azimio spoke up first. "Sign up for  _Glee_ club? Why don't you come to my church on Sunday, and get some of my cousins to sign up for the Klan?" I was with him on this one. I mean,  _really_ , Puck?

He obviously wasn't getting it. "Glee club is  _cool!_ " Wow.  _Lame, dude._  He sounded like a five-year-old. But he was stubborn. I knew I had to cut this off. Now. " _Glee club_  is most  _definitely_ not cool."

I had  _just_ barely begun to accept the fact that I was gay. Even if I wanted to, the last thing I needed at this point in my high school life was to be associated with Glee club: the bottom of the social pyramid. The losers.

And yes, while I was denying that I had had a crush on Hummel— _Oh, please! You love him and you know it! —_ I just couldn't go back to the way I was before. It was physically  _not_ possible. Not knowing what I knew. I was gay, and I knew it and I was dealing with it. I was dealing with it at my own pace. A  _slow_ pace, but my own nonetheless.

So there was no way I was going to let anyone else in on it. Not yet.

Azimio's voice broke me out of my musings. "Clearly we need to reinstate the 10:00 am Slushie."

My frustration with life in general finally bubbled over.  _Eh. Why not?_ I really didn't care anymore. I'd Slushie 'em all. Kurt Hummel didn't control my life, whether he was here or not. I was Dave freaking Karofsky! If I could Slushie dorks in Glee club while he was here to witness it, I could sure as hell do it when he didn't know about it.

Unfortunately for Puck, he was on my bad side today— _not that I ever seemed to have a good side anymore, actually._  I looked straight at him. "I say we make an example of him." I heard Azimio crack his knuckles menacingly, his eyes never leaving Puck. "I say you're right."

And right on cue, an angry mob of football players attacked poor, scrawny Puckerman. I could hear distinct yells of "Get him! Get him!" Puck screamed, "Whoa! Not the face, not the face!" It was like a freaking battle in there.

Ok, honestly? I had nothing to do with the whole port-a-potty thing. I really didn't. I figured we would just pound on him a bit and be done with it. Seemed the guys decided to take it farther. But I really didn't know.

Oh well. Didn't matter. Because there was  _no_  way, and I mean not-even-if-you-made-me-king-of-the-freaking- _world_  was I ever,  _ever_  going to join Glee club. And if  _this_ was the only way to get it through his thick skull, then so be it. Sorry, Puckerman. No. Freaking. Way.

…

Er… I thought.


	11. Karofsky vs Frankenteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No! It's HUMMEL, you idiot!
> 
> No, it's KURT! So shut up, you negative, nonexistent voice in my head! It's Kurt! Kurt, Kurt, Kurt! NOT Hummel! Kurt. He's that same guy you kissed and threatened and bullied and who stood up to you and who you fell in love with! Because, yes: You ARE in love with him! The sooner you accept that, the sooner you can stop wasting all your energy every single FREAKING night trying to convince yourself that you hate him. Because you DON'T hate him! And we need our sleep, damn it!

God, I loved football.

Being able to slam into other people and not get in any trouble for it. Able to yell in frustration whenever you felt like it. Roughing it up with the other dudes. Feeling like the biggest badass in the world. There was nothing like it. It was amazing.

Even better because we were actually winning! At 17-14 with five seconds left in the fourth quarter, it was starting to look up for us Titans. We would be going to the championship game. The crowd was cheering and loving us. Nothing could possibly go wrong.

 _Sooooooooooooo_ , of course, that's when Hudson decided to get all mushy on us. He called us into a huddle and began his last-minute pep talk. He glanced at the scoreboard and then back at the rest of us. "All right. I just wanna take a minute to tell you guys how proud of you I am."

 _Ugh. Someone hand me a bucket before I puke._  "We didn't even have to  _win_ this game to go to championship next week, but  _nobody_ took it off. When we take a knee, we're gonna finish first in conference for the first time in McKinley history." I could see the rest of the team getting into it, but I was too pissed at Hudson to really take anything he said seriously. I didn't know  _why_ he pissed me off so much. But I tell you right now; it  _definitely_ wasn't because I was jealous of him spending so much time with Hummel for God only knows what reason.

Nope. Definitely not that. Because I sure as hell didn't care about who Hummel hung out with, or about  _anything_  that had to do with Hummel.  _Grr! Stop thinking about Hummel!_

I snapped back to attention when I heard Puck impulsively yell out "Football is  _back,_ bitches!" and the rest of the team cheered. His stupid speech from a few weeks ago popped into my head. So I spoke up without thinking. "Maybe we should all break out into a  _song_  after we win."

Hudson looked like he wanted to keep the team in happy spirits, which apparently meant keeping  _me_ quiet. "Hey, hey! Shut it, Karofsky!"  _Oh, you wanna dance, Frankenteen? It's on!_ "No freaking way. I figure if I stay on you you'll run away like your little butt-buddy, Hummel."

Ok, yes. I am well aware that I was insulting myself more than anyone else with that little comment. Not that anyone else knew it. So that's probably why it felt like I got punched in the gut. Hard. And I'm sure that my chest only twinged violently like I was having a heart attack because I had a chilidog before the game.

Again, I'm sure it had  _nothing_ to do with Hummel. Because I might be gay, but I sure as hell didn't care about  _him_  at all.  _Or_  miss him like crazy.

Of course not.

Damn _, it's exhausting_   _trying not to think about Hummel…_

Suddenly, Hudson played a card I didn't even know he  _had_ in his deck and totally threw me off-guard. "That's funny Karofsky, how you're calling everybody 'gay' all the time but…" He cocked his head challengingly, stepping forward.  _Uh-oh. There's a 'but'._ I didn't think I liked where this was going…

"You never seem to have a  _girlfriend_."

_OH, HELL NO!_

How the— What the hell? Hudson was almost as clueless as Brittany sometimes. How did he figure it out?

Oh crap!  _Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap!_  Hummel must have told him something!  _Damn it!_

But—but I had trusted him! I thought he understood! He had  _promised_ he wouldn't say anything! He  _promised!_ Not that he owed me anything, of course. But he had the chance to out me in the principal's office, and he didn't. He gave me the chance to tell people when  _I_ was ready. That's how I figured out I was in love with—

_NO! You never liked OR loved Hummel! Start that sentence over!_

Correction: He had the chance to out me in the principal's office, and he didn't. Period.

_Much better. Now I think it's time to rearrange Hudson's face!_

I leapt at Hudson before I realized I was even doing it, ready to turn what was left of his microscopic brain to mush inside his helmet.

He jumped back in shock. An unnecessary action, since Azimio and Strando lunged toward me, holding me back. Hudson looked at me for a second with a weird look on his face before I realized my mistake.

_Double crap!_

Hudson didn't really know anything. He was just being a smartass. And I had taken it too seriously. If there was one thing I learned from reading  _Hamlet_  in English class, is that there was something called protesting too much. And it was almost as bad as coming out and confessing your secret out loud to the world.

But that meant he really  _hadn't_ heard anything from Hummel. Which meant…

Kurt really  _didn't_ tell anyone. Even his best friends.

_No! It's HUMMEL, you idiot!_

_No, it's KURT! So shut up, you negative, nonexistent voice in my head! It's Kurt! Kurt, Kurt, Kurt! NOT Hummel! Kurt. He's that same guy you kissed and threatened and bullied and who stood up to you and who you fell in love with! Because, yes: You ARE in love with him! The sooner you accept that, the sooner you can stop wasting all your energy every single FREAKING night trying to convince yourself that you hate him. Because you DON'T hate him! And we need our sleep, damn it!_

It seemed my brain was becoming addicted to these little split-second epiphanies. I hoped I wouldn't need them anymore. They really took a lot out of a guy.

But ok. Good. Wonderful. Now that  _that_ wasall settled, I had a very confused football team and an idiot quarterback who was  _way_ too close to a rare 'aha' moment for comfort to deal with.  _But no more gay jokes, dude!_  I figured it would be best to distract Hudson. He was the captain. If  _he_ was distracted, the rest of the team would follow suit.  _Bunch of freaking sheep…_

I put on my 'Yeah, I'm cool, whaddya gonna do about it?' face and turned to Hudson. " _Really_  hope that linebacker doesn't get the jump on me. I bet it would hurt like hell to get sacked by  _him_." That was no idle threat, either. Now that I had (re)accepted the fact that I was in love with Kurt, Hudson was officially my competition again. And he should feel lucky that I was threatening to kick his ass myself. At least the linebacker had to play by the safety regulations.

 _I_  didn't.

 _Bingo._  I knew I pushed the right button when he nervously glanced at the other team. They prepared to line up on the field. Hudson immediately turned back towards us. I noticed the panicky glint in his eyes and smirked at him.  _Karofsky 1 – Frankenteen 0._

He hid it quickly, going back to captain mode. "All right, slot left on one. Readaaay…  _break!_ " Everybody yelled "Break!" and clapped once before taking the field, probably grateful to have an escape from the argument.

Once we got lined up, I glanced over at Captain Frankenteen.  _Ha!_ You could practically  _feel_ his pulse pounding. Not that I blamed him. The linebacker, number 58, was  _huge!_

We crouched down and he yelled out "Down! Set! …" He looked over at me and I looked down on purpose, showing him I wasn't paying much attention to protecting him. Who cared if we lost? We were going to the championship game anyway. Why not screw with his head while I had the perfect opportunity? In my peripheral vision, I saw him look back to number 58. And I swear, hand to God, I heard the other dude  _growl!_

"Hut!"

I didn't notice what happened until about two seconds after it happened. True to my threat, I had let the giant linebacker through, using as little effort as possible. Then I realized that freaking Hudson DROPPED THE FREAKING BALL!

Huh. Well. That made my little stunt less noticeable, anyway. But this was even better. Now I could blame  _him_  for losing the game. Mr. Perfect didn't seem so perfect now, did he? Ha! Just to rub it in his face, I strode over and bumped his shoulder violently, barking out " _Nice_  hands!"

It was totally worth it. Getting over my severe denial, then embarrassing Hudson in the process?

Best. Game. Ever.


	12. Freakin' Weird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What was it with me getting shoved against lockers by these scrawny Glee boys? First Evans, now Puck? Was this the universe's sick way of trying to get me back for all those times I pushed Kurt into lockers?

Until we got into the locker room, that is.

I may have been happy at the end of this game, but Beiste sure as hell wasn't. Neither was the rest of the team, it seemed. Everyone looked pretty scared. Actually, I didn't blame them. Coach was pretty damn scary.

We all sat down on the benches, some of us still in our pads. Coach slammed her binder down, and then faced us with a disgusted look on her face. She spoke in a low, dangerous voice. "What a  _joke_. What the hell happened?" Then she got louder, turning to Hudson. "Finn, you're the captain! Talk!" I smiled as she approached him, clearly pissed off. But he wasted no time in his answer, pointing at me furiously. "Karofsky  _sucks,_ that's what happened!"

Oh,  _hell_ no! Tattling?  _What a chick move!_  I faced Coach. "That's crap! Hudson's a freaking  _girl_ and couldn't take a  _joke_  about his  _precious_  Gleeclub!"

Well, that's when he  _completely_  lost it. I'd  _never_ seen Hudson get this angry. He gestured wildly and was screaming at the top of his lungs, his voice bouncing off the walls in the locker room. I was suddenly almost afraid of him popping a blood vessel in his head. Almost. "'Cause I'm  _sick_ of you guys getting  _down_ on us for it! We're in Glee club! What's the big  _deal?"_

Strando spoke up from behind me. He was really getting into it, too. "It's embarrassing! We're  _dudes!_ Getting all hot and bothered about singing a Ke$ha song? It's freakin' weird." Well, Strando was a little freaking weird, too, but I wasn't going to argue with anyone on my side. Besides, I was pretty pissed. So I just tried to calm my breathing and make the red haze in front of my eyes go away. Didn't work.

Suddenly Puck entered the argument. Actually, it was about three words away from a full-on fight. He stood up and locked eyes with Strando and I in challenge. "Yeah? Well maybe you'll think it's cooler when I go all Tik Tok on your  _face_ —" I couldn't take anymore. So I stood up and cut him off. "Bring it,  _Puckerman_!"

Apparently those were the three words. Suddenly Puck grabbed me by the shoulder pads and the entire room started shouting. It was the Glee guys against the rest of the team, and Beiste was attempting to break it up.

I reacted instinctively, trying to shove Puck away to get a decent aim at his face. Freaking guy was stronger than I thought, though, and pushed me against the lockers. What was it with me getting shoved against lockers by these scrawny Glee boys? First Evans, now Puck? Was this the universe's sick way of trying to get me back for all those times I pushed  _Kurt_  into lockers?

It took a couple guys to pull Puck away and Beiste screamed, "That's enough!" I was  _pissed!_ So much for my previous good mood. It was  _completely_ gone. Damn Frankenteen had to go and ruin it for me, didn't he? I turned to Coach. "Championship game or not; I am  _not blocking_ for him!" I pointed to Hudson. Beiste looked at me in angry shock for a second before screaming, "Get the hell outta here!" Oh great, now  _I_ was the bad guy? "Fine!" She screamed back, "Go!" I started to walk out, not caring that I was still in my pads. "Good!" Just as I left the room, I heard her yell angrily, "Bunch of  _babies!_ " and someone kicked over a trash can.

Damn Glee club just had to go and screw with  _everything_ , didn't it?


	13. Epic Slushie Attack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cue the most epic, legendary Slushie attack in all of McKinley.

The football guys and I decided that we had to organize payback for the fight in the locker room. We had to do something epic. Something we'd never done before.

We eventually decided to Slushie Artie.

I felt kinda bad about it at first, remembering how we had left him alone due to him being in a wheelchair. But it wasn't like we were throwing him in the dumpster or locking him in a port-a-potty. It was just a Slushie. No big deal.

Actually, it was about  _twenty_  Slushies, but still…

We found him on his way to Glee club and cornered him. Azimio started talking first. "So I was going through my bucket list and I noticed you're the only Glee loser I haven't Slushied yet." I followed suit, making my voice sound like it was a terrible tragedy. "Damn near  _broke_  his heart."

He weakly attempted to argue. "Well, what about the moral implications of abusing a kid in a wheelchair?" Azimio replied, " _I_  say equal opportunity for all."

Cue the most epic, legendary Slushie attack in all of McKinley. And I mean  _epic._  By the time I had thrown the last cherry-flavored Slushie and left the cup on his head, poor Artie looked like the end of that  _Carrie_ movie I watched as a kid.

Trust me on this: I don't recommend watching it when you're seven years old. At night. While your parents are out. And the babysitter is asleep downstairs. I  _still_ have nightmares!


	14. Titans vs New Directions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can we actually manage not to kill each other this week? Is the worst over?
> 
> Nope.

Before the big Slushie attack, all the footballers—minus the Glee clubbers, since they would already be there for practice or whatever—had gotten a message from Beiste to go to the choir room. No one was happy about it, but we all agreed. So we headed over.

When we got there, Hudson and the rest of the Glee boys were walking towards the door with their war faces on. I assumed they were going after  _us,_ considering what we had just done to 'their boy'. Artie was standing— _er, sitting_ —over by his girlfriend.

How Artie Abrams, Wheelchair Boy, managed to get  _Brittany Pierce_  for a girlfriend was beyond me. I mean, I may be gay, but…  _damn._

I didn't want to make anymore trouble today, especially after already being in hot water with Beiste. But of course, Strando had to go and open his big, stupid mouth. "So  _this_  is what the ladies' lounge looks like on the inside."

Evans didn't look like he was up for jokes. None of them did. They were all  _pissed!_ "This is the choir room. Now put up your fists, 'cause you and I are gonna do some dancing."  _Ooooh, I'm so scared of the dinky little Justin Bieber look-alike._

Apparently everyone shared that opinion, because I heard them all snicker behind me. Even Hudson didn't seem to take him seriously, putting a hand on his chest and telling him, "No, I got this, Sam." Evans put on a grouchy kid face and shoved his hand off.

I decided to try and stop a fight before it started, hoping to keep the peace. "Coach Beiste told us to come. Where is she?" No one needed to answer, since she entered the room behind us with the Glee coach. "Everybody take a seat." Mr. Schuester turned to his guys and said, "You too, guys."

It kinda just happened without anyone planning it. Somehow, the Glee club was on one side of the room and the rest of us sat on the other side. It was like there was an invisible wall between us. There was 'us'and there was 'them' _._

As we all got settled, Mr. Schuester began speaking. "All right, New Directions. Let's give a warm welcome…" You know, looking back, I guess I should have seen the warning signs in his perky voice. But I  _never_ thought I'd  _have_  to worry about his next words. "…to the newest members of Glee club."

It was  _literally_ like all hell broke loose.

 _Titans_  were screaming and  _Gleeks_  were screaming. Over my own outraged "WHAT?", the only thing I could hear clearly was Mercedes' "Oh HELL to the no, Mr. Schue! Are you  _serious_?". I think Azimio even stood up at one point. It took  _forever_ for the noise to die down. Beiste and Mr. Schuester just kinda waited for us to let it all out, like we were kids throwing a tantrum. Which… we kinda were, I guess.

Even after the yelling stopped, Hudson had to give his input. "Mr. Schue, are you serious? These are the guys that made Kurt transfer!"

Then tiny little Rachel Berry pointed her finger at me and spat out "And there is  _no_ way I am sharing the choir room with a  _known_ homophobe!"

I shifted my eyes uncomfortably.  _Oh God, Berry… if only you knew._ Of course they had to go and bring Kurt up in the conversation. Because my life just sucked like that, I guess. If he was going to be a regular topic here, I figured I'd better get used to feeling like my heart was in a fight with my stomach.

But honestly, I wanted them to stop linking my bullying to homophobia. I didn't need to be publicly associated with that right now. Not when I was just getting comfortable with my  _own_ issues. I mean, Hudson's an _idiot_ and even  _he_ came too damn close to figuring it out. Was I really  _that_ obvious?

Their teacher spoke up. "I don't disagree with you guys."  _Oh gee thanks, Mr. Schue._ So much for that 'warm welcome'. Apparently even the  _teacher_  hated me. "But I talked to Coach Beiste about it and she and I both agree that the kind of bullying David does is born out of ignorance." Why? Why did they have to call  _me_ out?

Ok, yes. Maybe  _I_ had been the only one to take the bullying too… far. But still. Did Mr. Schuester and Beiste know that their precious Finn Hudson and Noah Puckerman had been bullies, too? What? Just because they joined Glee club, all that was magically erased? In what way was that remotely fair?

I'll answer that: it's not.

And I wasn't  _ignorant._ I wished they'd stop with that. I was smart enough—meaning Kurt called me it enough—to know that it was just a fancy word for  _stupid._ I wasn't stupid. In fact,  _I_ was the only one—in the room, anyway—who actually  _did_ know the whole story.

Mr. Schuester was still talking. "Having him in here, as difficult as it may be for us,"  _Thanks man…_ "Is an opportunity to show him and the rest of the guys that being in Glee club is kind of cool. Find some common ground."  _Feh. Fat chance, dude._ Nothing they could possibly do would convince me that Glee club was even  _remotely_  cool. And I wasn't going to do it.

Beiste took over then. "All of you are gonna be in this Glee club for one week, no exceptions." I panicked before I suddenly found a loophole. So I addressed the rest of the team. "She's  _bluffing_! Next week is the championship game. Without  _us,_ she has no team."  _Ha! Who's a genius? I'm a genius!_

" _With_ you I have no team!" Oh. Well, I didn't know how to respond to that.  _So much for geniusness…_

"You guys have gotta find a way to come together or we're gonna get our asses kicked from here 'till Tuesday finds a saddleback full of buckwheat!" The Titans were pretty used to Coach's weird analogies by now, so we weren't fazed.

Azimio spoke up for the first time. "If I have to stay, I am not singing no show tunes!" He turned to face us, explaining. "That is the music of my oppressors." Was this him starting to agree? Well that would just suck!

Hudson answered him. I didn't like the superior tone in his voice, like he knew something we didn't. Or like he was shocked that none of the rest of us knew what we were doing. "Do you even have any idea what we  _do_ in here?"

 _Yeah… you sing freaking show tunes and wear makeup and sparkly outfits._ They couldn't even deny it. I'd seen it with my own eyes. I highly doubted they ever sang anything cool or recent. Other than Lady Gaga.

And I swear, if I had to sing a freaking Gaga song… I would scream. No way in hell.

Mr. Schuester answered Hudson's question. "No. None of them do."  _Uh, yes we do._ "We have to show them. Rachel, Puck; haven't you guys been working on something? Why don't you give it a whirl?"

 _Heh._ As pissed as I was about the situation, I almost laughed at the look on Hudson's face. What? Was he jealous? Jealous that someone else was spending so much time with the person he cared about? Good. Now he knew how I felt.

Actually, to be fair, his jealousy  _was_  more justified than mine. Hudson wasn't gay. I was just being an irrational idiot. (Maybe not  _so_ irrational, though. Even if Hudson wasn't gay, Kurt  _had_ been in love with him last year.  _Everyone_ had known that. Plus the fact that he could sing and was the quarterback of the high school football team and wasn't exactly hard on the eyes—yeah. That was most  _definitely_ enough to be jealous about.)

But Puck was a threat for  _sure_. Hudson  _should_ havebeen worried.

On another note, Azimio was really starting to scare me a little bit, because now he wasn't protesting. He looked like he was willing—however grudgingly—to try this out.

Berry's tiny little voice spoke up, answering Mr. Schuester. "Fine. As offended as I am by their presence here, I won't let anything get in the way of our performance." She shot me a death glare before taking her place in front of the piano. It would have been intimidating if she weren't so tiny and adorable.

Yes, adorable. I wasn't crushing on her or anything. I was still attracted to testosterone; though I'm sure most would disagree if they knew the current... uh... object of my affections. But Rachel Berry was cute. Like a little kid or a yappy puppy. She still got on my nerves a bit, but not  _nearly_ as much as last year. Her attitude wasn't even as annoying anymore. Maybe being with someone as down-to-earth as Hudson was good for her. Or I had more tolerance for diva-ness after falling for Kurt.

Now I actually found the whole diva act almost kinda cute. Funny. It's not like she and I could ever be friends or anything, but she really  _did_ seempretty cool.

Puck followed her down the steps, also throwing us a glare. He grabbed a guitar and the music started.

I was surprised. I had honestly been expecting  _Cats_ or  _Sound of Music_ or something girly like that. Some kind of show tune. But I actually recognized the song playing. It was  _Need You Now_ , by Lady Antebellum. It wasn't a bad song. In fact, I heard somewhere that it was up for a Grammy this year. So I settled in, prepared to hear Berry and Puck butcher it.

Rachel began.  _"Picture perfect memories scattered all around the floor."_ Wow. She was better than I thought. And I had no idea her voice could go that low. I didn't miss that she was staring straight at Hudson. _Good. Hopefully they'll get back together and I can stop fantasizing about tearing his limbs off and shoving them into a tree chipper..._

 _"Reaching for the phone, 'cause I can't fight it anymore."_  The team1 looked pretty torn. Some were shaking their heads in disbelief and others seemed to be getting into it.

Puck joined in with her, and I was a little shocked that he could actually sing.  _"And I wonder if I ever cross your mind."_ Rachel sang the next line by herself, and I watched in surprise as Beiste mouthed along with the words.  _"For me it happens all the time."_

As they got to the chorus, Rachel began to walk past Puck flirtatiously.  _"It's a quarter after one. I'm all alone and I need you now."_ The guys seemed to be warming up a bit. I turned my head to the side a bit and saw one of them bouncing their hand along with the beat.

I abruptly snapped back to reality. We were being forced to join  _Glee club_ , and some of these guys didn't even seem to mind.

Well I did.

I hit him with the back of my hand, and he smiled at me in fake surprise, like he thought I was joking.  _Dude. Just try me._  There was  _no_ way I'd be happy with this. Nope. Never, never, never.

_"Said I wouldn't call, but I lost all control and I need you now. And I don't know how I can do without. I just need you now."_

Azimio was watching the performance like he was analyzing it. Mr. Schuester was bouncing his head to the beat and looking pleased with the two, like they were winning us over.

Which, unfortunately, they were.

Puck started in on the next verse by himself.  _"Another shot of whiskey; can't stop looking at the door."_ He looked straight at me, with a clear 'I may be singing this nice, happy song, but I really,  _really_ want to rip your head off and feed it to a pack of angry, rabid wolves' face. The rest of the team followed his gaze and looked back at me.  _Argh! Leave me alone already!_

I mean,  _God!_ They were acting as though I was the  _only_ bully here.

Mr. Schuester looked at him and gave him a nod of approval, and that seemed to calm him down a little. I could see Puck trying so hard  _just_  to keep from jumping at me and beating me to death. But he managed. _"Wishing you'd come sweeping in the way you did before."_ He seemed to get riled up again, but just did a fake-out in our direction.

Just as he was starting getting pissed again, Rachel joined in. She put a hand on his arm and he calmed immediately. He smiled at her and she smiled back.  _"And I wonder if I ever cross your mind."_

It was weird seeing Puck out of badass mode. With Rachel, he seemed playful and flirty. Not flirty the way he is when he's trying to pick up girls, either. It was like they were best friends, just singing with each other. It was… nice.

I noticed Mr. Schuester glance over at us. So I made sure I wasn't making any face that could possibly be read as positive at all.  _I'm_ not _happy with this!_

He let out a sigh, hopefully finally getting the fact that this little plan of his wasn't working. At least not on me.

Puck sang the next line solo. And I noticed that I'd never seen him this happy. Ever. Not in football, not when talking about his latest… adventures. But he looked genuinely happy to be singing like an idiot in front of a bunch of losers and the football team.  _"For me it happens all the time."_

They sang together again, and I could see the club swaying to the beat as they did.  _"It's a quarter after one. I'm all alone and I need you now."_ Puck sang solo.  _"And I said I wouldn't call, but I'm a little drunk and I need you now."_ Rachel joined back in.  _"And I don't know how I can do without. I just need you now."_

They ended the song and looked at each other with a smile. The Glee club applauded, and I waited for the team's reaction, holding my breath.

Azimio spoke up first. "The girl with the mohawk had a  _really_ nice voice."

Puck and some of the guys chuckled, and he took off the guitar. I couldn't believe it.  _Can we actually manage not to kill each other this week? Is the worst over?_

Nope.

Not when Puck ran at us, suddenly brandishing the guitar around like a bat. Everyone jumped up and started screaming at each other. It was every Gleek, player, and teacher for themselves. Beiste grabbed Puck before he could do any serious damage and Mr. Schuester had to hold Azimio back.

Rachel was kicking her skinny legs in the air, seriously not caring if she hit anyone.  _Damn,_  she could get crazy! And stupid Strando had grabbed her around the waist, trying to hold her back. That didn't really work. It just allowed her to use  _both_ her legs.

All in all… not exactly the best first practice.


	15. Prisoners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Need You Now? Thriller? Definitely better than Phantom of the Opera, I'll tell you that.

"No freaking way!"

Mr. Schuester and Beiste had just finished telling the Titans that, not only would we be in the club for one week, but that we would also be performing in the championship game's halftime show.

Performing. At our own championship game. In front of the whole school.

Thus the 'no freaking way' part.

I mean, wasn't it good enough for them that we were even  _agreeing_ to this stupid arrangement? At least if you're just sitting in the room with an 'I'd-rather-be- _anywhere_ -but-here-right-now' look on your face, you can  _claim_ that you're forced to be there and you're completely bored out of your mind. But performing in front of the school? It wasn't going to be easy to convince people that you hated what you were doing if you had to  _actually_  sing and dance.

Mr. Schuester answered my outburst. "We don't have a choice."  _Uh-huh._ "Sue pulled the Cheerios from the game, so if we  _don't_ do it, there's no halftime show."

Lauren piped up from the 'them' side of the room. "And this is a problem because…?" I completely agreed. Who the hell suggested there should be singing and dancing at a football game, anyway? We'd be better off without it.

Beiste answered. "It's not a  _problem._  It's an opportunity." I almost felt bad for her. She was basically begging us at this point to just go along with whatever crazy scheme they came up with. Strando addressed the team. "Opportunity to  _humiliate_  ourselves."

I noticed Rachel and Mercedes look at each other in exasperation. Beiste spoke again. "Hey! The whole point of this week was to bring you guys together. To bring this  _school_ together."  _Yeah. Coach, that's not gonna happen if we have to sing and dance in front of them._ But of course, like the idiot he is, I could see Hudson getting into it.  _Psh_ _._ Dumbass.

Azimio finally said something. "Wait, so you want us to play the first half, change into some sequined…  _ball_ gown, and then go out and do the halftime show at our own championship game?"  _Seriously!_

And, just in case anyone thought they would deny it, Beiste confirmed it. "Yes." What really pissed me off was that she said it like  _we_  were the ones who were idiots for complaining about it. Like we should be _happy_ about having to embarrass ourselves in front of thousands of people.

Azimio jumped out of his seat. "It's the CHAMPIONSHIP GAME!This is a  _crazy_ town!" All the guys were mumbling their agreements.

Hudson tried to keep things calm. "What about the Cheerios in Glee club?" Good question.

"They have a choice: Us or the Cheerios competition."

Rachel spoke up for the first time. I was actually shocked that it took her this long to talk. She was cool and all, but could  _not_ keep quiet for two seconds. "Well…  _obviously_ Quinn's gonna choose the Cheerios." Quinn looked all offended and Hudson shot back, "Well that's not fair. You don't know what she's gonna do."

For once, I agreed with him. I had been paying close attention to the people in the club, trying to figure out why they were willing to risk whatever reputation they had to begin with by joining. As hard as it was to believe, they actually had  _fun._

They actually  _enjoyed_ singing and dancing in front of each other. They even liked  _each other…_ for the most part.

Mr. Schuester tried to ease the growing tension between Quinn, Rachel, and Hudson. "I think the cheerleading competition is gonna be a lot of fun. But if you go, you're gonna miss out on us doing the most iconic song of all time. The  _superbowl_ of pop anthems: …  _Thriller_."

Everyone on the New Directions side started nodding their heads and cheering in approval. And, ok… it  _was_ pretty cool.  _Thriller_  was kinda awesome. But I still didn't like this.

He continued. "Yeah, remember a few years ago when that Philippine prison did that mega-performance of  _Thriller_  and put it on YouTube?" I nodded. I remembered watching it when I was randomly clicking around YouTube on a Saturday. I remembered thinking how cool it was. And, I don't know… it was just weird. But insanely awesome.

Apparently he took our silence for a confirmation. "In the four months it took to rehearse that number, prisoner on prisoner crime dropped  _eighty percent_. Doing that together—as a team—created a unity in that prison. And  _that's_ what I'm looking to do here."

How ironic that he was comparing us to prisoners. I looked over at the club, and saw that Rachel was looking over at us.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to give it a try. You know? I hadn't heard any show tunes or Lady Gaga yet; all the songs I'd heard or that had been suggested had been pretty cool.  _Need You Now? Thriller?_ Definitely better than Phantom of the Opera, I'll tell you that.

Plus, there was a good chance Kurt would show up to the game if all his best friends were performing in the halftime show. I suddenly started daydreaming about impressing him with a sudden change in personality and epic dance moves and unknown singing abilities no one ever knew I had, and—

Mercedes' voice cut through my daydream. "Don't get me wrong, you know—I mean, I'm big on Michael and everything—but isn't that  _kinda_ what they're expecting us to do?" I didn't understand what she meant, so I ignored it.

He answered her. "Which is why we're gonna mash it together with the Yeah Yeah Yeahs' equally spooky single… Heads. Will. Roll!"

Ok, that one I didn't know. Apparently neither did Azimio, who asked quietly, "Who's the Yeah Yeah Yeahs?" But everyone in the Glee club knew what it was. Of course.

Beiste got ready to dismiss us. "All right New Directions, Titans… We're goin' to zombie camp." Zombie camp? That actually sounded… cool. Like a horror movie, you know?

_I actually can't wait to come to practice tomorrow._


	16. Zombie Camp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I sucked at school. I screwed things up with Kurt. I was constantly paranoid no matter where I was. I was a wreck. But… I could be one of the most talented guys at the school. It meant that if I made an effort, I could do whatever I wanted. It made me feel good.
> 
> And it made me feel like I could actually be someone Kurt wouldn't hate. Someone he could maybe even like. A better guy.
> 
> One of the most talented guys at the school…

Zombie camp  _sucked._ Epically.

I wasn't really sure what I was supposed to be doing, and was getting more pissed every time we went back over the routine. Especially since Mr. Schuester and Beiste said we couldn't wear our letterman jackets.

It felt… weird. The jacket made me feel big and bad and tough. Not wearing it to a  _Glee_   _practice_ , of all things, made me feel like I was turning into one of them.  _Oh God._ There's  _a scary thought…_

Schue counted "A-five, six, seven, eight!" for the millionth time and we all started doing what we had been working on for an hour. A big fat  _nothing._ Some people were spinning in place and some people were waving their arms like idiots and… yeah. It was just basically a big mess. I made sure to stand by Rachel and just copy whatever she did.

That didn't really work out like I planned. She was doing some weird shuffle-movement-dance… thing. It didn't really look like a zombie to me, but I figured she knew what she was doing more than  _I_ did, so I just went along with it, feeling like a moron. But I really  _was_ trying. I just wasn't getting it.

Thankfully, Mr. Schue seemed to take pity on us and called a time-out, looking tired. "Time-out, time-out, time-out." I felt someone push me, and my PO'd meter went through the roof. So I turned around and shoved the first person I came in contact with, yelling, "Back  _off!_ " Coach blew her whistle and yelled, "Knock it off!"

Surprisingly, I found it was getting easier to bring my temper back down to normal. I could actually follow a command like a decent human being. So I stopped without arguing.

Schue ignored the confrontation. "Ok guys, it's… good."

_T_ _ch. Liar._

"But let's… put a little  _life_ into it." I decided I would be the one to state the obvious here, trying hard not to sound too sarcastic. "But… we're  _dead_." I mean, hello! We were  _zombies_ for God's sakes!

He looked at me like  _he_ was stating the obvious. Which he then did. "Then put some  _after_ life into it."

Oh. WellI didn't really know how to respond to that, so I shut my mouth. He continued. "So get  _outta_  your heads and get  _into_  your characters, all right?"

Things started to look up from there. We took ten minutes just to mess around and play zombie. I had to admit… I was kinda starting to have fun. I mean, I haven't played make-believe since I was, like,  _eight,_ when I wanted to be a space cowboy _._

You grow up, though. And then you start playing things like Call of Duty and football and arm wrestling. No one ever  _pretends_  to be  _anything_ anymore. So having an excuse to go back to that for an hour was kinda cool.

And it was fun watching everyone else do it, too. Mike was probably my favorite. He took his arm out of its sleeve and brought it up towards his face from under his jacket, like it was a monster hand. Then he 'choked' himself and even went down on the ground. It was really cool watching everyone actually have  _fun._

So the next time Schue called out "Five, six, seven, eight!" we were all loosened up and  _awesome!_  Everyone was on beat and no one was crashing into each other and… it was just awesome. I was particularly proud of my little clubfoot… thing. I'm not even sure what it was, but I didn't even really care. I was having a  _blast._

Schue seemed proud that we had finally gotten the hang of it. He even clapped. "All right! Nice progress, guys. Let's take a breather and I'll see you in the choir room in five minutes for a lesson in zombie makeup." We started heading over, but Azimio jerked his head towards Schue, shocked. "MAKEUP? No, no, no, no, no, no, no—" Beiste walked towards him and they both left the room. "Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes."

I started to head out with them, until I heard Mr. Schue call my name. "Hey, Dave." I looked over at him. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

Ok.  _Here it goes._ The part where he tells me—so very politely, of course—that I should just go home and work on the dance or maybe just step back to give the 'better' dancers room to do their thing. I was surprised at how much that thought bothered me. I actually  _wanted_ to do good, and was actually  _trying_ to make it work. So the thought that whatever I was doing probably wasn't enough was almost depressing.

I didn't want to hear anything I didn't already know, but I also didn't want to be rude. I actually liked Mr. Schuester. He was  _definitely_ one of the better teachers at this school, and he seemed to really care about his students. So I just cut to the chase. "Look. I know I'm bad. Can you just spare me so we can get through this?"

He looked a little confused. "That's not what I was gonna say at all. You're actually really _good_."

Well  _that_ was a surprise. I stared at him in shock before he went on. "If you took that energy you use bullying people and put it into  _this?"_ I looked away in embarrassment when he mentioned the bullying. Then I looked back. "You'd be one of the most talented guys in this school."

I truly couldn't help the little smile on my face. I couldn't  _remember_ the last time I even  _felt_  like smiling. It meant I was actually  _good_ at something. I mean… I was good at football, too, but I just didn't  _enjoy_ it anymore.

That was about it. I sucked at school. I screwed things up with Kurt. I was constantly paranoid no matter where I was. I was a wreck. But… I could be one of the most talented guys at the school. It meant that if I made an effort, I could do  _whatever I wanted_. It made me feel  _good._

And it made me feel like I could actually be someone Kurt wouldn't hate. Someone he could maybe even  _like._  A better guy.

_One of the most talented guys at the school…_

Take  _that,_ Hudson!  _Ha!_

Mr. Schue patted me on the arm. "Just think about it." I glanced at the floor and then nodded at him before heading out to the choir room.

On my way there, I  _did_ think about it. I was surprised at how appealing his offer was. I was—believe it or not—actually having  _fun_  in  _Glee club,_ of all things. I was having fun, and I was really good (apparently). Why _shouldn't_ I join if I want? I was a badass. If anyone gave me any grief about it, I would just pull out my good friend "The Fury". So if I wanted to join Glee club, then I would, damn it!

But I was still dead-set against Lady Gaga. When pigs fly and hell freezes over and all that jazz.

The only question was how to ease into it without freaking out the rest of the guys. I knew I was going to need help on this, to get them on board. So after Mercedes helped me get my zombie makeup on, I made my way over to Hudson's mirror. Now, I may have been on the borderline of joining Glee club, but you know you've been in it for too long when you can put makeup on by yourself. Like Hudson was.

I tapped him on the shoulder. "I need to talk to you." He immediately got defensive, but in a tired way. Like he just didn't want to have to deal with me right then. "Could we not fight for just one day, man? It's already hard enough not to kick you in the nuts every time I see you."  _The feeling's mutual, pal._

Actually, I found it wasn't  _as_  mutual anymore. I'd actually hung around Hudson for a few days now and it seemed he was either still totally in love with Rachel or possibly in love with Quinn. Either way, I didn't think I had to worry about him anymore. And he hadn't mentioned Kurt at all since the first practice. Maybe they didn't see each other anymore. I didn't know. But I had to admit… Finn was actually a good guy. And he was probably the only one who would be able to help me, even if he  _did_ want to kick me in the nuts.

So I mentally willed myself to ask my next question. "You think… maybe we should do a… warm-up number or something before we do that big…  _Thriller_  thing at halftime?" He looked at me suspiciously, like I was replaced by a real zombie. I realized how out-of-character I must have sounded, so I quickly added, "You know I—I figured the only way I'm gonna keep any street cred around here after dancing around like an _idiot_ in front of the whole school is if we kick ass at it."  _Wow. 'Street cred'? Really?_

Finn started turning in his chair, still sounding suspicious. "Uhh…" He finally faced me with a look on his face like he couldn't believe the words coming out of my mouth, but was agreeing with them. "Yeah. Couldn't agree more." Satisfied, I nodded, then started heading back to my own mirror.

But I didn't miss the little smile he had on his face. It was kinda nice. It was like he was happy to see this whole ridiculous plan working out.

And I had to admit… it was. It was bizarre—but in a good way—to see Glee club girls helping out the football team with their makeup. We really meshed, and it totally worked.  _Maybe it won't be such a big deal to join. Hell, maybe a couple of guys on the team will want to join_  with  _you!_

Ok, that was pushing it a little. But maybe not.

Well, we'd see after the warm-up number.


	17. (S)he's Not There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt popped into my head. In the middle of the freaking song! And wouldn't leave!

So after a whole day and a half of practice, the Titans were ready for our very first performance. Ever. Even if it was just in front of Schue, Beiste, and the girls, it was a big deal.

Other than some tension between Finn and Evans I didn't feel like getting involved in, things didn't actually go as horribly at the practices as I thought they could. We had decided on  _She's Not There_  by… The Zombies.

Pun totally intended. We figured it would be cool to use our zombie training as much as we could, and so we picked a Zombie number.

So we assembled on stage. Finn would be singing the solo part. None of the other footballers would willingly sing a solo. And even though it was  _my_ idea, I decided against it. I didn't want to make more trouble for myself than I had to. Plus, he'd had more experience with this kind of thing. It just seemed like a good idea.

After the first twangy chords of the song, Finn faced the audience with Frankenstein arms.

_Ha, ha. Frankenstein. Frankenteen? Get it?_

He began to sing.  _"Well no one told me about her."_ We started our moves. I may not have wanted the solo, but I was a little bitter I was stuck in the back. Especially since I was—not to blow my own horn—one of the better dancers. I definitely wasn't in the same league as Mike, but I was just as good as Sam and Finn, and better than a lot of the team.

It's not bragging if it's true.

Finn continued to sing and we moved to our new positions.  _"The way she lied. Well no one told me about her; how many people cried."_ Once he got to the chorus, we started getting into uber-zombie mode, dancing towards the center.  _"But it's too late to say you're sorry. How would I know? Why should I care? Please don't bother tryin' to find her; she's not there!"_

We all joined in, running to our new spots. I was nervous for a second, before I decided to just go with it and take whatever happened.  _"Well let me tell you 'bout the way she looked…"_

Have you ever been in a situation where you're doing something important and then the most random thing pops into your head at the  _worst_ possible time? Well, suddenly Kurt popped into my head. In the  _middle of the freaking song!_ And  _wouldn't leave!_ I panicked for a microsecond, convinced I would freeze onstage, before I realized that I could use it to my advantage. Schue was always telling us to get into character, right? I'd just use Kurt as inspiration, rather than letting him distract me from the song.

And it was loud enough that no one would notice if I… uh…  _replaced_ a few words.

 _"The way he'd act and the color of their hair."_ Best. Idea. Ever. I was  _totally_ getting into it, now. It was even easier to remember the  _words,_ now that I had someone to sing  _about._ And it didn't hurt that it was all completely true.  _"Their voice was soft and cool."_ It  _had_ been. Very much so. _"Their eyes were clear and bright."_ Oh  _God,_ they were. _"But he's not there!"_  And… he wasn't.

During the short instrumental break, we went all-out with the zombie characters. The flapping part was a little weird, but I just went with it.

Then Finn started singing the next verse.  _"Well no one told me about her. What could I do? Well no one told me about her. Though they all knew."_

We got into our lines for the next chorus. We walked forward and snapped, then walked back. Every time we walked forward, we would get more 'dead', like we were falling apart.  _"But it's too late to say you're sorry. How would I know? Why should I care? Please don't bother tryin' to find him. He's not there!"_

Ok, now  _this_ was definitely my favorite part. I don't know why, but the turn into the bent-walk… thing was just  _way_ too fun. And I didn't even care how lame I looked anymore. It was too addicting.  _"Well let me tell you 'bout the way he looked. The way he'd act and the color of their hair. Their voice was soft and cool. Their eyes were clear and bright. But he's not there!"_  We went more all-out than ever and held the note for what felt like for _ever._

Finally the last chord was hit and we posed for the end.  _Oh. My. God!_ It was  _so_ much fun! Hells yeah… I was  _definitely_ joining Glee club after this. I couldn't even remember why we bugged them in the first place. I didn't blame them for wanting this all the time. This after-performance rush was addictive.

.

The girls in the audience cheered, and it actually felt really cool. But I was  _really_ waiting for Schue's input. He walked to the front of the stage with a frown and set his binder down with a loud slap. "Guys…" He sighed and looked back at Beiste, who shrugged.  _Oh God._ _Now_  I was nervous. The high I was on was quickly wearing off.

Then he immediately turned around and yelled "Awesome!" with a laugh. He looked  _so_ happy and  _so_ proud, I felt  _amazing._  And relieved. I liked Schue and all, but messing with us like that was  _so_ not cool.

"Seriously! All you football players nailing that Zombies classic on—on the first time out!" I was surprised when Finn reached to grab my hand and gave me a quick bro-hug, but I went along with it. It was nice not hating his guts anymore. Sure, I was still jealous of his looks… and talent… and the fact that he could hang out with Kurt without hostility… But he really  _was_  a nice guy.

Mr. Schue pointed to himself. " _I_ am impressed." And that totally made my day.

_Thank. You. Kurt!_


	18. Most. Deserved. Slushie. Ever.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five minutes later, the whole team was in the locker room, scrubbing cherry-flavored Slushie out of… everything.

Still jazzed about our  _epic_ performance not twenty minutes ago, the team decided to leave their zombie makeup on to walk down the McKinley hall. Leading the pack with Azimio on one side of me and Artie on the other, I felt  _powerful_. And I think it totally came from the fact that the football team was actually  _acting_ like a team, for the first time since Glee club first started. Power in numbers, you know?

So there we were, walking down the halls, feeling like the biggest badasses in the world.

Until it all went to hell.

The hockey team walked straight up to us. Football vs. Hockey. Like we hadn't been through this a  _bazillion_ and one times before. The captain spoke first. "Appropriate outfits. They represent the death of your guys' reign at this school."

I honestly couldn't believe I had been one of them. Hockey had been cool before, but it just started to suck when all these mullet-losers took over. Finn shot back, "How many times do we have to put you 'Puck-heads' in your place before you realize that  _football_ rules the school?"  _Yeah!_

Mullet-loser #1 was unfazed. "Maybe. But not after you make dancing fools of yourselves at that halftime show. You know it, we know it, the whole school knows it."

I was suddenly hit with the realization that this is how  _we_ were all the time when we confronted the Glee club before. And they sounded like  _idiots._  So, for once, I decided to make up for it by actually taking a stand. "They'll think different after they  _see_ it. It's gonna be  _awesome!_ " And it was. I honestly couldn't wait for the show. I was excited.

I probably should have kept my mouth shut, though. Because the next thing I knew, Mullet-loser #1 had laughed and said, "Holy crap; they turned Karofsky gay!"

It got hazy there for a second. I  _literally_ had to fight myself from lunging forward and knocking this guy out right then and there. And I was suddenly hyper-aware of the laughing faces in front of me. I  _hated_ them!

What  _really_ shocked me, though, was the fact that I didn't even speak. At all. I didn't fight it, but I didn't deny it. I was  _definitely_ not ready to say it out loud, but I was surprised at the fact that I could hold back the denial. I was angry, but controlled. It actually made me feel…  _proud_  of myself.

Thankfully(?), Puck changed the subject. "What're you Moose-knuckles doing with those Slushies?" Huh. I hadn't even noticed them. He replied, "Ready for the fireworks? It's independence day."

Now, apparently I was even more of an idiot then I thought. You'd think I would have seen this coming. But, no. I just stood there, looking at the drinks and not even comprehending what was about to go down.

And then… it went down.

* * *

Five minutes later, the whole team was in the locker room, scrubbing cherry-flavored Slushie out of… everything. I was standing in the showers, furiously kneading my eyes and still complaining, spitting out bits of sentences. "Ah! My eyes—burning—"

Finn spoke up from the mirrors. "Just relax. It stops after a few hours." His tone was bored, like they'd been through this a million times before.

_…_

Oh, yeah.

Still rubbing my eyes, I shot back, "No freaking way I'm letting that happen  _again._ " Nope.  _Never, never, never._ I would rather go up against an entire football team of 700 pound giants than get Slushied again. Not only did my eyes feel like they were on fire, but I could feel Slushie sliding  _everywhere._ My hair, down my back, into my jeans…  _gross!_

It was  _literally_ the most humiliating experience of my high school life.  _No one_ deserved this. Well…  _maybe_ we deserved this. I know  _I_ did. But it didn't make it any better.

Oh, if only Kurt could see me now. He'd probably be laughing his ass off…

Suddenly Artie said the worst thing he possibly could in this situation. He  _sucked_ at pep talks. "He's in the first stage of loserdom:  _denial._ " I saw Azimio shoot his head up and glare at Artie, but didn't say a word.

I answered back a little too quickly and a little too loudly, not aware until after I spoke that I was just proving his point.  _And_  I sounded like a stubborn 8-year-old. "No! I am nota  _loser._ "

Then my eyes were opened and I realized what the real problem was. I had gone temporarily crazy and had actually  _considered_ joining Glee club. Maybe I had been brainwashed. Maybe it was a  _cult_ … I don't know. All I knew was that  _it_ was to blame. So I turned to Hudson. "And I don't  _sing and dance._ " I faced Artie again, pointing furiously. "I walk tall, and carry a  _big_ stick!"

I was freaking _Dave 'The Fury' Karofsky,_ for crying out loud! I  _didn't_ sing and dance. I  _didn't_  want to join their stupid little group. And I  _didn't_ want to make any stupid friends in it. I just needed to get out of it  _now,_ before I did something that could ruin me for the rest of my high school life.

Hudson walked over to me, trying to calm me down. "Dude.  _Relax._ It's gonna be fine." No, it sure as hell  _wasn't_ gonna be fine. Not as long as I was forced to associate myself with these losers. "Yeah. Of  _course_ it is." I pushed past him. "'Cause I'm  _quitting_ Glee club." It was the best decision I'd ever made.

So why did I almost feel like crying?

Suddenly, Beiste entered the room. "No you're not. Fact is, covered in ice and red dye #7, you guys look more like a team than you  _ever_ have on that field." I looked around when she mentioned the ice and dye. And I had to admit… we looked pretty hilarious. It would have been almost funny if my eyes weren't still violently stinging.

So I argued back. "I don't care. I'm out." I started to walk around her when she said, "Then you're off the team."

I snapped my head back towards her. "No way!" She nodded and said, "Yeah". This was unbe- _freaking_ -lievable. I couldn't believe how much my life  _sucked_ right now. I was gonna lose  _football_ now, too? I looked around the room and saw that the team looked just about as pissed as I felt. Then I got a new angle. "If we all quit, you  _barely_ have enough guys to play next week. It's the  _championship game._  You're  _not_ gonna throw it away."

She stepped forward, challengingly. "Try me." And I believed her. She looked freaking  _crazy._  I wouldn't put it past her. So I hesitated, completely torn. Then Hudson spoke up with a soft, pleading voice. "Don't do this. If we stand together and we do the halftime show, we can  _win_ this game and be  _kings_ in this place. " He sounded  _so_ desperate, I actually turned around to face him.

Poor guy. That was  _complete_ wishful thinking. There was  _no_ way we would get a better rep for being in Glee club. And now that my temper had cooled of a bit, I was starting to feel uneasy. I really  _did_ want to join. But I just couldn't risk it. Not with all I was going through right now. It was just risking too much. I couldn't do it.

I couldn't do it…  _alone._

I suddenly remembered how much fun the other guys had had at practices. Maybe there was a glimmer of hope. So I didn't fight Finn's words. I just turned around and faced the rest of the team, to get their input on this.

Not one guy spoke up. One even shook his head, 'no'. I could feel my whole body just slump inside in disappointment and regret. I just had to go and make a big deal about this, didn't I? I couldn't just keep my mouth shut, could I? I couldn't just take the Slushie like a man and deal with it. I had to throw a temper tantrum and ruin the first thing that could have actually made me happy in a  _long_ time _._

So I now had no choice but to turn to face Finn and say in a sarcastic voice, "Good luck with that."

Then the whole team and I left the locker room. The whole team with the exception of Finn, Sam, Puck, Mike and Artie, of course. They stayed behind.

Oddly enough… I wanted to stay with them. But I couldn't

And I had no one to blame but myself.


	19. Game Time!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God! Tina! Oh God, Tina's gonna die, and it's all my fault! Oh God! Get up, Tina! Get up! Get up! Get up! Oh my God! She's not getting up! Why isn't she getting up? Is she breathing? Oh my God! She's gonna die! Oh God, Tina's gonna die! This is all my fault! Why am I such an idiot? What the hell was I thinking? What the hell was that dumbass player thinking? I swear, when I get down there, I'm gonna rip his freaking arms off! Oh, God, paramedics! Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!

Just because we had quit didn't mean that we didn't want to see how the hell the guys managed to even pass regulations. Without the rest of us, there were only five guys playing. At league minimum, you needed nine.

So by Friday, when we hadn't heard anything about the game being cancelled, we all decided to go and check it out.

Plus, I really wanted to see how they would pull off the big  _Thriller_ number. The Cheerios had quit the club, which meant it had been cut from about thirty people to nine. So… I was curious.

Before the game got started, Azimio and I decided to head down to the field to scope out the situation. We found Finn stretching and went right up to him. He looked over at us as we walked up, but looked away as he spoke. "It's not too late."

 _Yeah, it is._ "To commit social suicide?" I decided to change the subject before I got too depressed over the fact that I desperately _wanted_ to be out there with them, committing social suicide. "How the hell you gonna play with five guys?"

He didn't answer at first, actually looking embarrassed. Then he looked up, looking right past us. We followed his gaze and saw the most bizarre. Sight. Ever.

And that  _includes_ Kurt Hummel in silver, sparkly, 10-inch Lady Gaga heels.

Rachel Berry, Tina Cohen-Chang, Mercedes Jones, and Lauren Zizes were walking in our direction in full pads and uniform. They were going to be playing  _football!_ Against _dudes! Big_ dudes! I said the first thing that came to mind. "You have _got_ to be  _kidding_ me!" Azimio seemed just as stunned as I was. "The _hell_ are they doin'?"

Finn didn't take his eyes off the girls, looking at them in total admiration and answered, "What you don't have the balls to do." I looked down in embarrassment. Then he left us standing there like idiots as he walked over to them. Azimio mumbled, "Stupid…" under his breath.

As Finn and the rest of the boys greeted the girls, I couldn't help but notice that  _they_ actually _looked_ like a team. And not the unorganized, pathetic excuse for a team we had been. A _real_ team.

I was jealous.

Azimio and I found some seats a few minutes before the game started. It was rare that we had the stands this full. It sucked not to be down on that field, but I was too stubborn and too afraid to change my mind now.

Once the game started, we realized that the girls were basically props. They didn't  _actually_ do anything. When someone hiked the ball, they would just collapse onto the ground. Except for Lauren, who looked like she was about to kick the other players in the nads just to get the ball. As it was, she was _probably_ the best defense they could _ever_ possibly hope for.

I was still worried, though. Mercedes and Lauren were tough chicks, and I had  _no_ doubt in my mind that they could take care of themselves. But Rachel and Tina… they were _tiny. Breakable._ They actually looked like they would snap in half at the slightest pressure.

At three minutes left in the second quarter, it was 17-0. And we were losing. Well, we were actually  _epically_ failing. It was almost  _painful_ to watch. You could tell that morale was low and that the girls were quickly running out of steam.

After they broke out of the huddle for the millionth time, we had completely given up hope. They couldn't do it themselves, and there was no way we were going back down there. So we just prepared to go back to being the official loser football team of Lima.

What we  _didn't_ prepare for, though, was for the ball to escape everyone's grip and go bouncing along the field. I saw number eight—Tina or Rachel, I think. Tina. Rachel was number one, I remembered—look up from her spot on the ground. I could see Beiste shouting at her to get the ball, which she did.

Then she ran towards the end zone at a ridiculous speed, with the guys keeping anyone on the other team from getting to her. Everyone in the crowd was _flipping_ out, including Azimio and me _._ Holy crap! She was gonna make it, too! Then—

Some dude on the other team tackled her from behind and she went crashing down. The crowd silenced immediately, and everyone rushed to her. I noticed she wasn't moving at first, and silently started having a major mental panic attack. I hadn't been so terrified since Kurt and Blaine ambushed me on the stairs. My heart was  _pounding_ and I suddenly felt really warm and I heard buzzing in my ears and my mind was going a mile a minute…

Because, contrary to how I'd been acting, I really  _had_ begun to like everybody in Glee club.

Finn was a pretty decent guy. I would admit that. No more, no less.

Rachel was probably my favorite. It was pretty hilarious how confidant she was, being so…  _Rachel._ You know?

Mercedes' never-ending sassiness painfully reminded me of Kurt, but with a double dose of 'blackitude'. Although I was a little surprised she didn't talk about him more. Weren't they, like, bff's or something? When we were forced to join, I had honestly been more afraid of  _her_ than anyone else.

Puck was actually a funny and  _nice_ guy once you got past the glaring badassness _._

Mike was an  _epic_ dancer, and I wastotally jealous of his mad skills. Jealous in a _good_ way, though. He was even nice enough to help me with my dancing when I wasn't quite… _there_ yet.

Santana was still a total class-A beyotch, but you could see underneath her tough exterior how comfortable and  _calm_ she could around Brittany, I noticed. Plus, that chick could _belt!_

Brittany was ditzy—no doubt about that—but the sweetest girl you'd  _ever_ meet. _Seriously._ She was hot, but you almost considered her a 6-year-old by the way her thought process worked, so she just ended up being adorable.

Artie was like a freaking  _rock star,_ and somehow managed to be totally gangster, too. _Despite_ his 'nerdy white boy' look, complete with plaid sweater vests and glasses. I wasn't so surprised anymore that Brittany chose him for a boyfriend anymore. He was _awesome._

Quinn acted like nothing ever bothered her, but I could see how everything that had happened to her last year—the pregnancy and everything—affected her personality, maturing her. It also seemed to cut her off from pretty much everyone, isolating her into her own little world.

Sam was cool, too, once you got to know him. We never  _had_  after he transferred to McKinley, since he immediately joined Glee club. We never even gave the poor guy a  _chance._

Lauren was a bigger badass than Puck, and it was pretty freaking cool. I had no doubt she could kick my ass if she wanted to, and I actually think Puck was kinda into it.

And Tina…

…Was still passed out on the ground. My mind was  _beyond reason at this point, and I couldn't control my thoughts at all._

_Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God! Tina! Oh God, Tina's gonna die, and it's all my fault! Oh God! Get up, Tina! Get up! Get up! Get up! Oh my God! She's not getting up! Why isn't she getting up? Is she breathing? Oh my God! She's gonna die! Oh God, Tina's gonna die! This is all my fault! Why am I such an idiot? What the hell was I thinking? What the hell was that dumbass player thinking? I swear, when I get down there, I'm gonna rip his freaking arms off! Oh, God, paramedics! Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!_

The crowd waited in tense silence as Beiste and the paramedics and everyone on the team examined her. I saw Mike go right up to her side, and could almost see the look on his face. He loved her  _so_ much. This _had_ to be killing him.

I was suddenly hit with an  _enormous_ wave of gratitude that Kurt wasn't on the football team anymore.

They turned her over so she was lying on her back, and someone shone a flashlight in her eyes.  _Finally,_ she began to move. Everyone in the crowd—and on the field, I assumed—pretty much let out a collective sigh of relief. She was helped to her feet, and I began to relax. Even Azimio was relieved. I could see him hold his forehead for a quick second, like he had gotten a headache just from worry alone.

I hoped they learned their lesson, and gave up on this stupid idea. The  _last_ thing I wanted was a repeat of what just happened. I didn't think my heart—or the girls' skulls—could take it.

I watched as Finn, Rachel, and Puck made their way over to the side of the field. It looked like Rachel was upset, and next thing I knew, Finn called Sam over. Then, after some quick instruction and fist-bumping Puck, he left.

Once the whistle blew for halftime, the rest of the team and me made our way down to the locker room to collect our stuff. We had stormed out of the locker room before, and, while dramatic, we didn't realize at the time that we left all our crap behind. So we all headed down.

Apparently no one felt like speaking. After a few deathly silent minutes of packing, Puck walked in, still in uniform and pads. I saw him first, so I looked up and commented sarcastically, "Looking good out there, Puck."

He was  _pissed._ "You know what? I don't wanna _hear_ it, Karofsky. I don't wanna hear it from _any_ of you. You're all a bunch of _cowards!_ Coward  _losers!"_

Azimio fought back. "You're the only loser losing  _this_ game." He's got a point. Puck ignored that, probably deciding how to word what he wanted to say. Finally, he spoke. "You know, this is it. This is the moment of our _lives._ This is the one we can actually look back and tell our _children_ about."

I could see the guys starting to look down in guilt and embarrassment. I had to admit, Puck was pretty good at pep talks. I mentally scoffed.  _Much better than Artie…_

"This is our moment to actually win something. And you guys are sitting in the damn _stands_!" He started to walk towards us, really getting in our faces. I could totally see him being a coach or something. "I mean, you're so afraid of being called  _geeks…_ or _losers…_ or _gay…_ that you settle for being  _nothing!"_ I looked down at that, hoping no one saw my reaction. I felt like if someone saw my face, they would be able to guess which one I was.

That was the million-dollar question, though, wasn't it? What  _was_ I? Or rather, which would I rather _publicly_ be? A geek? A loser?  _Gay?_

Or nothing at all?

Completely invisible. No one being able to tell me apart from any other Lima loser. If I chose  _that_ option, wouldn't I just be proving Kurt right?

_Extraordinarily ordinary…_

I was broken out of my depressing thoughts when Puck faced us and kept talking, this time in a gentler, more persuasive tone. "We still got a whole half to play." He then said, more forcefully, "Now, we can  _win_ this, guys! I _know_ it!"

Azimio stood up, sounding defeated. "What's the point, man? Beiste isn't gonna let us play!" I nodded behind him, hoping desperately that Puck dropped it, because I was  _pretty_ sure what his next argument would be _._

_Three… two… one…_

"She will if you come out and perform at the halftime show."

See? Knew it.

I scoffed and shook my head, only because that's what I thought the rest of the guys would do, too. What I  _didn't_ expect was for there to be complete silence. _No. No, no, no…_

Azimio gave in first. "I'm in."  _No…_ Strando was next. "Me, too."

_No!_

What the hell were these guys trying to  _do_  to me? Why couldn't they _make up their freaking minds_? I was going to go _crazy!_

I had been forced to give up on my hope to join the club  _because_ of them. We had basically _quit the football team,_ for God's sakes!And now they were just going to change their minds back again?

No. I wasn't going to do this. I couldn't do this anymore. Because who was to say they wouldn't go right back to harassing the Glee club once this whole thing was over? If they couldn't stick to one decision for more than forty-eight hours, I couldn't rely on  _any_ of them. And I didn't want to have to be dragged out of something I loved because  _they_ had suddenly decided it was lame again.

Because I didn't think I would be able to do it.

So I shook my head. "No way." I shifted my eyes in panic. Eyeing each of them frantically, I hoped I was getting my point across clearly enough:  _We're not doing this!_

Azimio turned to me and used his most persuasive tone. "Come on, man, I really wanna win this game. It'd mean  _so much to my dad, man—"_

I slammed my hands down in frustration. God, this was like mental  _torture._ Why the hell couldn't they just _drop_ it? I had now started to believe that some sick-minded higher power had decided to make my life a living hell as payback for everything I'd ever done to the Glee club or anyone else—and was having a hell of a time with it, too. "Forget it! Okay? Glee club  _sucks!"_ I glared at Azimio and then the rest of them desperately. I realized how stupid I sounded, but I didn't have enough conviction in my own words to really care. I would try and _beg_ to keep them from doing this if I had to.

…That would be a final option, though.

Thankfully, Puck stepped in and saved me. "All right, Karofsky's out. Whatever." I turned around so I could get my emotions under control. "But the rest of you need to get into your zombie makeup and hit the field, tout suite." I shook my head, still turned away.  _Tout suite? A 'Chitty, Chitty, Bang, Bang' reference, Puck? Really?_

Crap. Now I had  _Chitty, Chitty, Bang, Bang_ songs stuck in my head. _Damn Glee club… got me thinking in show tunes…_

Apparently no one else knew what he was talking about, because no one moved until Puck clapped his hands and said more forcefully, "Come on! Let's  _go!"_ Everyone yelled and cheered and applauded and  _left_ , from the sound of it.

I figured it would be safe to turn around. I did so, and found myself locking eyes with Puck, who had stayed behind. He looked… disappointed, and I guiltily shifted my eyes between him and the floor. I wished he could just read my mind, and just  _know_ why I had to do this, and how much I didn't  _want_ to.

Finally, he shook his head and left the room. I was all by myself in the locker room, and it seemed dismally quiet. I leaned against the locker room and sighed heavily. There were literally so many thoughts and feelings in my head that I just decided to shove them aside. I didn't have the energy  _or_ the motivation to deal with any of it at the time.

I'm not quite sure how long I stood there before I finally stuffed all my things into my bag and headed out to the field. I still wanted to watch the performance, morbidly curious as to how the crowd would react.

I made it out there just in time. The fog machines had just started up and everyone was in their beginning poses. I had to admit, they actually looked  _really_ cool. And I was surprised to see Quinn, Santana, and Brittany out there. I figured Finn must have convinced them to stay behind. It was just another mark of how much they enjoyed being a part of the Glee club. Because it would take a _lot_ to pry them away from their precious Cheerios.

 _Despite_ the fact that Sylvester wanted to shoot poor Brittany out of a human cannon. I had been pretty pissed at Sylvester for that stunt. She could have _killed_ Brittany if that had gone through. And I hadn't been happy with Quinn or Santana, either. They hadn't done much to prevent it. I liked Brittany. I didn't want the poor girl to die by way of explosion.

So I was happy to see her out on the field, and not in the mouth of an evil cannon.

Santana began the song, and I jumped, startled at the sudden beginning.  _"Off with your head! D-dance, dance, dance till you're dead!"_ The football team came forward and grabbed the girls around their waists, carrying them back. _"O-off with your head! D-dance, dance, dance till you're dead! O-off, off, off with you're head!"_

Artie wheeled forward, beginning the  _Thriller_ part of the song. _"It's close to midnight, and something evil's a-lurking in the dark."_ Still standing right in front of the crowd, I finally reached the fifty-yard line, facing the performance. The guys were really into it, and they _really_  looked like zombies. I was _so_ jealous.

_Don't do it, Dave. Don't do it, don't do it, don't do it…_

_"Under the moonlight, you see a sight that almost stops your heart."_ I studied the whole group, flinching just a little when I saw Rachel and Tina make their way forward. I was  _incredibly_ glad Tina seemed to be okay now, but my focus was on Rachel. She wasn't such an adorable little thing anymore. She was… kinda scary. I was actually kinda terrified.

Artie kept singing.  _"You try to scream. But terror takes the sound before you make it"_ Santana joined in with,  _"Heads will roll… Heads will roll!"_ Artie began again, and Rachel sang with him. _"You start to freeze. As horror looks you right between the eyes, you're paralyzed…"_ I looked behind me and was _completely_ shocked _._

The crowd was going  _crazy!_ They weren't laughing. They weren't throwing things. They weren't doing _anything_ negative. They were having _fun!_ I snapped my head back to the field to make sure they were seeing the same thing I was.

Then the chorus started.  _"Cause this is thriller! Thriller night, and no one's gonna save you from the beast about to strike!"_ I was having a hard time controlling myself. I could feel my head nodding to the beat, and I could even feel a smile begin on my face. It was just so… _fun. "You know it's thriller! Thriller night! You're fighting for your life inside a… killer… thriller… tonight!"_

Once Santana came back in with her  _"Off with your head"_ verse, I couldn't control myself anymore. My tiny little ghost of a smile turned into the first full-blown grin I'd had in a  _while_.

 _You know what? Screw this…_ I was going out there!

So I reached into my bag and grabbed my tattered zombie uniform and ran out onto the field as I threw it over my head. I made it out just in time for Finn's big solo and the major dancing part. I quickly high-fived Finn before taking my place in the formation.

Finn began singing in his 'possessed demon' voice, as I called it.  _"Darkness falls across the land. The midnight hour is close at hand."_ This was freaking _amazing!_ I hadn't forgotten any of the moves, and was feeling confident about how it looked.

For the first time in my high school life, I didn't care if people were watching me. I didn't think about how people would react the next day. I didn't think about how this made me look. I didn't even think about  _Kurt._ For once, I just focused on _me_ and how great _I_ felt doing what  _I_ wanted _._

 _"Creatures crawl in search of blood."_ The 'crawling creatures' step was my favorite. Something about it was really easy, and it was always the part that looked the coolest. _"To terrorize y'all's neighborhood."_ We made our way to our next positions. _"And though you fight to stay alive… your body starts to shiver…"_

 _Ha!_ I loved the shiver part!

 _"For no mere mortal can resist… the evil of… the thriller!"_ The music sped up and swelled until it stopped altogether, cutting off with no sound but a heartbeat.

Then it started back up.  _"Cause this is thriller! Thriller night! Girl, I can thrill you more than any ghost would ever dare try! Thriller… Thriller night! So let me hold you tight and share a… killer… thriller… tonight!"_

Santana began the last,  _"Off with your head! D-dance, dance, dance till you're dead! O-off, off, off with your head! D-dance, dance, dance till you're dead! O-off, off, off with your head!"_

We all posed on the final beat, and the crowd went  _nuts!_ That after-performance high I had had after She's Not There number? Yeah… it was magnified by, like, a  _billion!_ I hadn't felt this good in a  _long_ time, and it was heightened even more when the team crowded around me, cheering! Azimio came up behind me and pulled me into an awkward backward hug. Awkward, but… nice. I felt like I was part of the team again.

And it was great.

We made our way into the locker room, cheering loudly Wanting to put all the negative crap behind us, I pulled Finn into a quick bro-hug. Everyone was high-fiving and we were all so loud that we just barely noticed Beiste walk in.

She looked at us in confusion. "What are you guys doing in here?" Finn answered with a smile. "Oh, we were gonna take our zombie makeup off for the second half. It's… kinda itchy."

Beiste actually looked amused. "Nah, leave it on." The guys looked at each other in amazement. "Maybe we can freak out the other guys a little bit and we need all the help we can get right now."  _True that._  She smiled. "Now get out there!"

Puck asked quickly, "All of us?"

There was silence. No one dared to even breathe. I looked around in hope—and embarrassment. She considered it for an agonizingly long moment, finally answering in a soft voice. "Yeah…  _all_ of us."

There was another beat of silence as it soaked in, and then we all erupted in cheers, grabbing what we needed and heading right back out to the field. I felt pride swell in my chest when Coach clapped me on the shoulder and said, "Welcome back, boy! Get out there." I grinned at her for a second before following the rest of the guys.

When we headed out onto the field, the crowd cheered like crazy. I was a little surprised to see Mr. Schue standing next to Beiste on the sidelines. But I was more surprised by our cheerleaders. We had to be the overall weirdest team ever. Last year, we danced to "Single Ladies" to win our first game in the season. Now we had zombie players and a Bride of Frankenstein cheering section? I could only _imagine_ what the other schools thought about us now.

But I didn't care.

When we broke out of our huddle, I could feel the difference from the rest of our games. We were a  _team_ now. We all respected each other and we were back where we belonged. Then we lined up.

The other team seemed pretty uneasy, especially when the players still in makeup (everyone but me) got in their faces and moaned and groaned like actual dead zombies. A few minutes before, Mike had spit on the ground and hissed at one guy, who backed up a little.

Once they snapped the ball, we were able to work together to tackle the guy running to the end zone and get the ball back. The crowd went crazy. Over the overall roar, I heard one of the other team's players trying to reason with the referee. "—bit me! One of those zombies  _bit_ me!" I cracked up. None of us actually had bit him, as far as I knew, but I was glad our… _unorthodox_ tactics seemed to be working.

When we hiked the ball, I heard Beiste shouting, "Block fifty-nine! Get on fifty-nine!" I saw him trying to get past our defense.  _Hell to the no, man!_ I ran over and slammed into him, knocking him to the ground easily. Finn threw the ball to the player at the end zone—Puck, I think it was—and we got a touchdown!

I caught Finn's eye and pointed to him. He pointed back. I walked over and slapped his hand for a quick handshake. He said, "Nice block." I answered back with a, "Nice throw." He laughed a little and I did too before I walked away, still laughing, "All right."

After what seemed like no time at all, we were in the fourth quarter with ten seconds left. We were just barely losing, 21-24. Beiste called a time-out.

Sam spoke first in the huddle. "It was a good run. We almost had it." Finn tried futilely to lift morale. "Hey, this game isn't over."  _Oh, Finn… Poor, naïve, optimistic Captain Finn Hudson._ I argued back a little, my voice more defeated and reasoning than actually upset. "There's, like, ten seconds left. It's over." Finn was quiet for a second, before getting a promising look in his eye.

"Not if the quarterback fumbles the snap." Then he leaned forward and quickly let us in on his bizarre plan.

 _Ok,_ now _things are getting interesting._

After we broke from the huddle, we lined back up as usual. Suddenly, one of us began groaning, " _Braaaains…"_ Soon, we were all moaning and groaning and hissing the same thing. _"Braaaains… Braaaains… Braaaains…"_

The other team began to look uneasy, and the next thing I knew, all our zombie girls began to chant along with us. Then Beiste and Schue joined in. All of a sudden, I realized that the  _whole_ crowd was chanting along with us.

" _Brains! Brains! Brains! BRAINS! BRAINS!"_

Then the other team hiked the ball, just when their quarterback looked up to see what the hell was going on. It shot right past his ear and landed about six feet behind him. Before he could register what happened, Finn shot past him faster than the ball had. He grabbed it and ran to the end zone.

And then…

_WE WON!_

As completely unbelievable as it was, and as much as we had  _hated_ each other a week ago, we had somehow managed to come together—over Glee club, of all things—and be the first McKinley high football team to _ever_ win the championship! The crowd went completely  _crazy!_ Tons and tons of people ran out onto the field and I think I even saw Schue banging on one of the band kid's giant drums. And for the first time since we did She's Not There, I couldn't stop smiling.

And I didn't remember until later that night that I hadn't even checked to see if Kurt had been there…


	20. So Close!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had a choice to make. I could go with Finn and apologize to Kurt. If I did that, I wouldn't just be able to maybe make him hate me a little less, but I could also join Glee club, something I actually enjoyed and was good at.

About a week after the whole  _Thriller_ episode, the hype had finally begun to die down. However, I was  _totally_ back on top of the McKinley social pyramid. Thank  _God!_

No one from the team had mentioned anything about considering joining the Glee club. Not that I had expected them to. It would have been  _great_ for me, though. As far as I'd come with  _everything,_ I  _still_  wouldn't join unless one of  _them_ did first.

Because I was even more terrified now. It felt to me like after everything we'd done, anyone could just  _look_ at me and… know.

I was putting some books away in my locker when Finn walked up. "Hey." I looked up at him. "Oh, hey. Congrats on that MVP." God knows he deserved it. Even so, he smiled embarrassedly and waved it off with a, "Oh, thanks. It was a team effort…" and a small laugh. Then he took a deep breath and spoke again. "So listen, uh… there's no way the Glee club's gonna let you join permanently until you clear things up with Kurt, so… I was thinking maybe we could go together to Dalton, and …apologize to him—"

My face immediately dropped.  _Dammit!_  I knew getting out of joining the club had been too easy.

I also  _knew_  I hadto apologize to Kurt. Not to get into the club or to make anyone else happy, but for my own personal benefit. I'm sure no one would believe me—not that I had given them any decent reason to—but I  _fully_ intended to apologize. However, I needed to do it on my  _own_ time, when  _I_ was ready. I wasn't ready yet. And I wasn't ready to join Glee yet. I really wanted to, but the thought of the consequences that would follow still terrified me.

It was pretty sad that I was willing to risk a chance at getting into Kurt's good books because I was too damn scared of what other people would do. Actually, no. It wasn't so much what they could  _do_ to me—I mean, I was  _Dave freaking Karofsky!_ —but I could almost hear the whispers and the rumors and the  _hate_  already.  _That_ all scared the crap out of me. I tried to reason with myself, realizing that Kurt had already been through all that and more, usually at  _my_ hand. So far, it hadn't worked, and it always just made me feel like even  _more_  of a monster.

So I had a choice to make. I could go with Finn and apologize to Kurt. If I did that, I wouldn't just be able to maybe make him hate me a little less, but I could also join Glee club, something I actually  _enjoyed_ and was  _good_ at. But the coward inside me screamed louder than the rest, and the thought of all the heat I would get for joining made me make a decision I  _hated_.

Sick with myself for what I was about to do, I interrupted him, glancing nervously around the hallway. "Who said I wanted to join the Glee club  _permanently?_ "

He looked at me with this confused look on his face, like he had completely expected me to immediately jump in my car and drive to Dalton and get on my knees and beg for Kurt's forgiveness—which actually sounded pretty appealing right about now.

"I just thought after this week… the way we won the game, and the way you came out and danced—" At the words 'come out', I immediately reverted back. Almost all progress I had made this past week flew right out of my brain and I was suddenly defensive. I sarcastically spit back, "What do you  _think_? We all dance around together and win a football game and everything's gonna change? Glee club's gonna be  _cool_ , and we're all gonna sing… hippie peace songs every morning?"

I knew that was completely unfair. We had sung nothing  _close_ to hippie peace songs this week. But right now, I was worried less about the sense I was making and more about getting him to back off.

But, like the idiot he was, rather than disagreeing with me, Finn answered, "Maybe. I—I don't know… I—it's a start—" I interrupted, frustrated with him and his logic. "No, dude, it's a  _finish!_ " I felt bad for yelling at him when he wasn't doing anything wrong. So I softened my voice a little. "Ok? This is  _high school_." I stared off past him, realizing with a wave of depression just how true my words were. "People's memories for good stuff lasts about as long as a Facebook status…"

This time, he interrupted me. "We've got a chance to really  _change_ things here!"  _Oh poor, simple, naïve Finn Hudson…_ "I  _just_ won the conference championship. I'm on top. Why would I wanna  _change_ things?" I shook my head at his lack of understanding, and then walked away…

…Regretting every word.


	21. Blaine vs The Fury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You can live whatever lie you want, but don't pretend that the three of us don't know what's really going on here." 
> 
> Like what? The fact that I'm in love with your boyfriend?

It was weeks later before I had to worry about anything. But of course, as soon as I began to feel safe again, the universe had to go and metaphorically smack me in the head with a crowbar.

I was staying in the gym late to work out. It was about 7:30 when some guy came in and said the 'fairy' was back. My stomach dropped like a rock, and I almost dropped the weights I was working with. I mumbled some excuse about having to go to the bathroom or something, and slipped out into the hallway. It didn't take me long to find them, considering there was no one else around in the empty corridors. To my horror, I realized he wasn't alone. It was that freaking  _Blaine._

"What the hell are you two doing here?"

I hated how my voice trailed off at the end of the sentence, due to the fact that I suddenly realized that this was the first time I'd seen Kurt since the parent-teacher conference a couple months ago. They both turned to face me, and I was relieved to see that Kurt didn't look terrified out of his mind.

He looked… different. It wasn't even just his clothes, which were about a billion times more subtle than before: just a dark gray button up shirt and a pair of dark, charcoal pants. Where the hell did his crazy awesome look go? What the hell did Dalton  _do_ to him? I hadn't realized it until now, but he'd have to wear one of those frigging uniforms wouldn't he? Every day, the same damn thing. It just wasn't…  _him._

But even his voice seemed subdued as he answered, "We're here for the benefit. Don't tell me  _you're_ going."  _Oh, yeah_. That stupid benefit concert. I had seen a few posters up about it, and had actually thought about sneaking in and watching from the back of the auditorium.

But now that Kurt so  _obviously_ didn't  _want_ me to go, I sure as hell wouldn't disappoint. I couldn't help but feed of his sarcasm with some of my own. "I wouldn't be caught  _dead._ I was pumping iron in the gym when one of the guys told me you two were here spreading your fairy dust all over the place."  _Pumping iron, Dave? Really? Real smooth, dude…_

By the end of that sentence, I glanced over at pretty-boy, unable to look Kurt in the eyes as I insulted the both of them. Him. Again.  _Dammit!_  Apparently I wasn't making as much progress as I thought I was.

Suddenly, Kurt's little friend began to talk back. "Would you just  _give it up?_ " Kurt glanced over at him out of the corner of his eye, but said nothing as he continued. "You can live whatever lie you want, but don't pretend that the three of us don't know what's  _really_ going on here." He looked me over with an obvious air of disgust and superiority, impressively for a guy who was about 4'3".

 _Like what? The fact that I'm in love with your boyfriend?_ "You don't know  _squat,_ buck-boy!" Suddenly he stepped forward and shoved me with as much power he had. Apparently 'not alone' and all that other touchy-feely crap he'd been talking about on the stairs all those months ago had gone straight out the window. I had to admit, though… pretty-boy had some balls.

Too bad he was about to lose them.

I lunged forward and grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket. He tried to shove me off, and just as it was turning into a full-fledged fight,  _Santana Lopez_ showed up out of freaking  _nowhere_ and pulled us apart, shouting at us both to stop.

Suddenly, Kurt was talking to me again. He said sarcastically, " _Real_ brave with your fists, but you're a  _coward_ when it comes to the truth!"

Ok, that was just unfair. It was pretty uncalled for, considering Mr. Perfect here shoved me first. I turned to Kurt with hurt in my eyes, and suddenly couldn't look away. He was staring straight at me with an intense, focused gaze. And unlike every other time he fought back to me, his eyes weren't gray. They were brilliantly blue.

I was brought back to reality when Santana turned to him and asked, "Truth about what?" Suddenly, my chest constricted, and I couldn't breathe very well. Pretty-boy seemed in an awfully good mood to spill everything.

My eyes flicked between the two of them desperately,  _begging_ them to just stay quiet. Then I stared straight at Santana and replied, "None of your business, J-Lo!"

…Bad idea.

Her face took on a quick 'oh no you didn't!'-type look before she answered, "First of all,  _anything_ you do  _became_ my business when you decided to toss that Slushie up in my grill." Somehow, when she said 'up in my grill', it managed not to sound lame at all. I glanced over at Kurt for a quick second, hoping he might take pity on me and save me from the crazy chick in front of me. I wasn't hopeful.

I actually felt really bad about Slushying someone after going through it myself, but I had been in a desperate climb to the top last week, and it was something I needed to do to do so. She had just happened to be the first Glee member I had seen.  _I get the feeling I'm about to regret that, though…_

Rather than do the smart thing and walk away, I stood my ground and looked at all three of them. "I think I can take a couple of queers and a  _girl._ " I was all talk. There was no way in holy hell that I could  _ever_ lay a hand on Kurt again, and Santana honestly scared me too much to go after anyway.

Blaine? Possibly.

Santana stepped forward, chuckling darkly to herself. That was the moment I realized that I was probably in deep, deep trouble. I didn't show it though. I smirked, trying to look cool as I was reduced to a terrified mess on the inside. She looked up at me. "Ok. See, here's what's gonna go down. Two choices. You stay here and I crack one of your nuts—right or left, that's  _your_ choice—"

I lost that smirk pretty quickly after that.

"—Or you walk away, and live to be a  _douche bag_ another day!" Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, she suddenly added, "Oh, and also? I have  _razor blades_ hidden in my hair." I chanced one more pleading look at Kurt and pretty-boy.  _Help…_

That didn't look like it was gonna happen anytime soon. She noticed the panic in my eyes and continued. "Mm-hm. Tons… just  _all_ over—" I didn't listen to anymore, and left the conversation with a grunt. I walked away, completely mortified. That was so  _not_ how I wanted my first encounter with Kurt to go…


	22. Beards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You're what we call a late-in-life gay. You're going to stay in the closet, get married, get drunk to have relations with your wife, have a couple kids, maybe become a… state senator. Or a deacon. And then get caught in the men's room tapping your foot with some page, and you know what?" She leaned forward with a mock smile. "I accept that about you."
> 
> The saddest part was, I could picture it now. All of it. All the drunken 'relations', all the lies, all the unhappiness. That was my future. And now I just couldn't stop picturing it.

After that, I thought the last person who would ask me out would be Santana Lopez. But suddenly we were together at the Lima Bean, drinking overpriced lattes after school.

To cover up my shock, I tried to joke. "I knew you'd ask me out eventually. I'm… kinda duke stud at McKinley."  _Yeah, because you gave up everything else to get that._ She huffed and almost rolled her eyes at me. "Give it up. I  _know._ " I smirked, trying to play the part of overconfident jock on a date with the school hottie, when I was really just getting more confused by the minute. "Know what?"

"That you're  _gay._ "

...

 _Oh God. Oh God, oh God, oh God! Breathe, Dave!_ Oxygen wasn't flowing to my brain fast enough and I felt like I would pass out at the table. Definitely not the  _coolest_ thing in the world. So I tried desperately to pull myself together enough to respond without sounding like a moron. "What? Who told you that?"

She looked at me like it was obvious. "No one had to  _tell_ me. First of all, I saw you checking out Sam's  _ass_ the other day… You know, you  _really_ need to be more careful with your leering." Crap. I didn't realize anyone had seen that…

 _Ok, not so bad._ It's not like that was concrete proof. I could talk my way out of this. "I  _didn't._ I was… just… seeing what  _jeans_ he was wearing."

"Like that's  _any_  less gay." Point, Lopez. She continued naturally, like we had conversations like this every day. "Second of all, I know about you and Kurt."

 _That_ got my attention. I looked over in shock before composing my features into what I hoped looked like disinterest. "Remember last week? Before the benefit? About you being worried about the 'truth getting out'?" She made air quotes with her fingers to emphasize. I looked down at the table, feeling nauseous. "Well guess what?" She hit the table with her hand. " _Out._ "

I quickly tried to cover up with the only thing I knew how to… threats. So I put on my 'Big Bad Karofsky' face and said, "Whatever they told you is a  _lie_  to mess with me! I'm gonna kick their asses…" Again, all talk. Other than the exception named Blaine.

For some unfathomable reason, Santana then reached across the table to grab my hand, attempting to calm me down rather than rile me up. That was new. "Ok, you know what? Why don't you just settle down and let Auntie 'Tana here tell you a little story." I looked around the restaurant, hoping no one saw me being patronized by a girl. Thankfully, she dropped my hand and started on her 'little story'. "It's about you."

Uh-oh.

"You're what we call a late-in-life gay." Oh my God, was she actually  _saying_ these words right now? "You're going to stay in the closet, get married, get drunk to have relations with your wife, have a couple kids, maybe become a… state senator. Or a deacon. And then get caught in the men's room tapping your foot with some page, and you know what?" She leaned forward with a mock smile. "I  _accept_ that about you."

Oh, God. That life sounded  _horrible_. Other than the kids part,  _none_ of that sounded even  _remotely_ appealing. The saddest part was, I could picture it now. All of it. All the drunken 'relations', all the lies, all the unhappiness. That was my future. And now I just couldn't stop  _picturing it._

That last line of her little monologue hurt the worst. I wanted so badly for someone to say that for real when I came out, and I didn't know anyone who would. So for her to trample all over that acceptance I wanted so badly broke my heart a little bit. To my horror, I realized that if I didn't get a hold of myself, I would start crying.

I fixed her with a serious gaze. No more denying, for the moment. "Why are you doing this?" Was she doing this to hurt me? Because she was. To help me? I doubted it. For fun? With her, who knew? But then she said the last thing I would've expected. "Because I need you. And you need me."  _Pfft! Doubt it…_

"…We play on the same team."

Scratch that;  _that_ was the last thing I would have expected. It didn't sink into my miserable, cloudy brain for a second. Once it did, I looked up, strangely relaxed, despite the surprise. I suddenly felt just a little bit better. If she knew what it was like, wouldn't she be far less likely to out me? Once my brain caught up with my mouth, I began to ask, "Y—you're…?"

She answered with impatience. "Look, I'm not ready to start eating jicama… or get a flat-top yet, either." She looked to the side. "Maybe in junior college."

I suddenly realized that I hadn't denied the fact that we, as she put it, 'play on the same team'. So I corrected that mistake. "Look, this is  _garbage_ , I'm  _not…"_ I dropped my voice down low,"… _gay_."

Santana gave me a look of disbelief. "I'm  _trying_ to help you out here!" She calmed down slightly and leaned forward a bit. "Have you ever heard of the term 'beards'?" I suddenly pictured Dumbledore in my head, but I doubted that's what she was talking about. So I shook my head and leaned back in my chair. She answered, "It's when a gay man and a woman date each other to hide the fact that they're gay. Like the Roosevelts." Though I doubted the Roosevelts were ever in this situation, I was beginning to see where she was going with this.

As depressing as this whole deal sounded, it was a really good idea. What better way to finish my climb to the top than by 'dating' the hottest girl in school? However, I didn't see what was really in it for her. Not a single person would look at her and guess she was a lesbian, so why would she bother making a show?

She continued. "So you and I are going to be each other's beards. And then we're gonna win Prom King and Queen and rule the school." While I didn't care at all about Prom court, the 'ruling the school' part sounded pretty appealing. However, I asked the obvious question. "What if I say no?" She rolled her eyes as she answered with such an obvious comeback that I felt like an idiot for even asking. "Then I'm gonna tell everyone about you, and your life will be over."

Wow.  _Blunt, much?_

As if she could read my mind—or body language, as I visibly shrank down in my seat—she continued. "Only straight I am is straight-up bitch."  _Clever._

"You in or not?"

…

Did I even have a choice?


	23. A "Change of Heart"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I knew first hand how cruel the students at this school could be. I'd seen it all, and, unfortunately, been a part of it.
> 
> That was one of the reasons I was so afraid of being found out.

Apparently I didn't. By the next day, it was all over the school that Dave Karofsky and Santana Lopez were a thing. First order of business, according to Santana, was to apologize to Glee club. Her plan was to 'rehabilitate' me so that Kurt would feel safe enough to come back to McKinley. She figured everyone would be so happy with her that they'd all vote her for Prom Queen. Why that stupid title was so important to her was beyond me. Must be a girl thing.

I actually  _did_ like her plan. A lot. If everything went the way it was supposed to, Kurt would be back. And it's not like he would come back if he was still scared of me. I wanted to apologize to the Glee club, too. I felt ready for it.

Until I actually got in there.

Suddenly, all my confidence and all of Santana's prepping went straight out the window. Especially when they all started yelling at me. Some didn't even bother shouting. Mike and Lauren looked speechless with anger, simply staring and rolling their eyes. Finn's voice grew louder than anyone's, until I could hear him even clearer than Figgins, who was standing right next to me. "We don't  _care_ what he has to say!"

Finally, everyone shut up a bit. Figgins took advantage of the break from noise. "Shh… Now I know David  _has_  had some issues in the past,"  _Pfft…_ that's  _an understatement…_ "But I have  _great_ respect for what he's doing right now, and I ask you to hear him out. Thank you—" Suddenly, a pissed-off looking Sam interrupted. "How about we punch his face in?" Mercedes voiced her agreement next to him, until Mr. Schue finally cut in. "That's  _enough_ , guys. Now everyone listen up!"

I tried to take a deep breath—not easy, considering I felt like my lungs had been removed—and began. "First, I just wanna say how sorry I am…" Another failed attempt at breathing. "For what I did to Kurt, and for what I've done to a  _lot_ of you. I think I've Slushied every one of you…" I saw them all wince or cringe or grimace in their own way, probably remembering a time when they were each Slushied. All except Lauren and Brittany, who I realized never had been.

I looked down and braced myself for the next part of my speech, my stomach tightening uncomfortably. Then I looked up at them. "I treated Kurt the worst. And I'm… really ashamed of… who I am. And… what I did." I struggled remember the exact words Santana had coached me to. Don't judge. I meant every word. I just wasn't all that great at conveying my feelings. Obviously.

Puck interrupted in a hostile tone. "Why should we believe you?" Santana hadn't prepped me for questions, but I had an answer for him anyway. Swallowing my nerves, which were making me  _and_  my voice shake, I answered truthfully, "You don't have to. I know I'll need to earn your trust." I hated that I sounded like I was about to cry, something that happened every time I got overly uncomfortable.

I took a shaky breath and continued. "All I can say is that Santana has really helped me to see the light." I smiled over at her, but the smile didn't last long. "She showed me all these stories online about kids jumping off of bridges and—and hanging themselves because they were being bullied so bad. I couldn't believe someone could make another person feel  _that_ awful." That wasn't actually true anymore. Maybe a year ago it would've been, but not now. After all, if  _I_ felt this horrible about bullying someone, I could only  _imagine_ how bad it could be for the victim. Especially because I knew  _first hand_ how cruel the students at this school could be. I'd seen it all, and, unfortunately, been a part of it.

That was one of the reasons I was so afraid of being found out. I knew I wasn't the healthiest-minded person around, and I didn't know how I would handle being harassed myself.

I continued. "But she helped me accept that  _I_ was one of those bad people. And… I don't wanna be anymore." I was relieved that they were beginning to focus less on the fact that I sounded like a four-year-old— _Bad people?—_ and more on the fact that  _Santana Lopez,_ of all people, was playing Extreme Makeover: Homophobic Neanderthal Edition. Quinn looked at me with a confused look on her face. "Wait…  _Santana?_ "

Santana looked over at Quinn with her 'bitch, please!' face, and then came down to stand next to me. "This Glee club is not complete. Not without Kurt. So I've taken it upon myself to try to rehabilitate Dave." She clasped her hands in front of her and looked at the club with such pure innocence that  _I_ almost believed her. "To see if Kurt would… maybe consider coming back. Help us win Nationals. I did this for us." I could see them beginning to believe her.

Her tone changed a bit. "And then something…  _funny_ happened."  _Deep breath, Dave. Here we go._  She reached down and grabbed my hand. "Something… called  _love._ "  _Wow, cheesy much?_ My heart was beating wildly from nerves. I was completely freaking terrified.

I didn't miss the look Brittany got on her face, like someone kicked her puppy. Ever since Santana came out to me, I'd wondered about those two. Brittany was her best friend, and they seemed almost suspiciously close. Not to mention the fact that she seemed like the only person who would willingly spend time with her. I didn't count. I was being held hostage.

Not everyone had the same reaction as Brittany.

Tina spoke up first. "I'm gonna barf…" As I began to speak—trying to let them know that I wasn't a horrible person anymore—Puck gagged behind her. Uncalled for, in  _my_ opinion. What was so gross about it?

"I-I want Kurt to feel safe to come back." This I said with true feeling and determination. "Which is why," I put my arm around Santana, keeping up appearances, "Santana and I have started a new club. The Bully Whips." I don't know why, but something about that name never sounded right to me. But Santana was insistent on it, and it was her way or no way.

She spoke up next to me, luckily taking credit for the stupid name with a proud smile. "Name was my idea. We're gonna be like… guardian angels. "

Figgins finally joined in again. "I've deputized—"  _Deputized? Is that even a word?_ "—David and Santana and the rest of the club to roam the halls, identifying bullying and stopping it in its tracks." I found it funny that he said 'the rest of the club', considering there  _was_ no 'rest of the club' at this point in time.

Nevertheless, we had busted Z earlier trying to take some dude's pants, just for the hell of it. I had to admit… it was pretty funny watching Santana get all law and order on his ass.

These uniforms she picked out, however, were freaking ridiculous. She had me wearing a damn  _beret,_ for crying out loud. Needless to say, I'm not much of a hat person. And the jackets she got—which looked badass on her, of course—made  _me_ look like a freaking candy bar. A  _round_ candy bar. Definitely not the most flattering outfit in the world, but I guess I couldn't really talk. Those lettermans didn't do much, either.

I snapped back to the present, once again bracing myself and trying to sound as calm as possible. "I'm planning on reaching out to Kurt  _personally_  through Principal Figgins to try to make amends." This was another one of Santana's conditions, but one that I was more than happy to follow. I had wanted to apologize for everything I'd done since the kiss the moment I did them—and things I'd done before, too—but it's not like I ever really had the opportunity to do so. This gave me an opportunity.

Vaguely remembering Finn's words from after the big game, I echoed them back as best I could. I hoped he could see that this was me agreeing with what he had said, and that this was truly me reaching out for whatever tiny shred of forgiveness I could scrounge up.

"This is a chance to really change this place. I hope you can support us."

_God knows we could use all the support we can get…_


	24. Parent/Teacher Conference: Take Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He smiled gently, and I suddenly felt so proud. Whether I was forced into this whole thing or not, it was all worth it if I was doing something he believed in.

Before I knew it, another meeting had been scheduled between me, Kurt, and our dads. The only difference was that Figgins was there, rather than Coach Sylvester— _Thank God!—_ and Mr. Schue was there for some reason.

After Figgins had explained to Kurt's dad the whole situation—the Bully Whips and my apparent one-eighty this past week, while I stared at Kurt's face to get  _some_ kind of reaction—he still didn't seem too satisfied. In fact, he began to yell as soon as Figgins finished. "You talk a good game, but all I'm hearing is talk. And talk isn't going to  _keep Kurt safe._ " I looked down, justifiably ashamed of myself. Dad shifted next to me. Kurt remained motionless, staring bright blue daggers at the both of us.

Figgins tried to soothe Mr. Hummel, speaking in a low and reasoning voice. "But the anti-bullying club that David started  _will._  The fact is, since the club began enforcing the no-bullying rule, we haven't had one incident!" Kurt's dad was quick to shoot back, "Yeah, and if I took all the water out of the ocean, it wouldn't be  _wet_ anymore."  _Huh?_ I glanced over and saw that Mr. Schuester had the same look I did. When no one responded, Mr. Hummel clarified, "The bullying  _stopped…_  because your top  _offender_ stopped."

Oh. Ok. That was a little clearer.

Dad finally stepped in. "Mr. Hummel… can I call you Burt?" He actually responded pretty calmly, despite his mood. "Of course." Dad went on. "Do you remember how understanding I was about this when it all began? I didn't come to David's defense. I  _believed_ your son." Kurt continued to just stare at my dad as he went on. "That's because the David I was seeing was not the young man I knew. The boy I raised was a cub scout." I smiled a little, remembering cub scouts. "He was kind, he was a good citizen—"

I saw Kurt glance down for a second, absorbing this all in. It gave me a small glimmer of hope. Maybe all this would help him see that I wasn't the monster he thought I was. At least… not anymore.

Dad went on. "—I still don't know what was going through his mind when all this bullying started—but I can tell you that the David I'm seeing now is my son back again. This—this is  _real_."

Mr. Hummel didn't seem appeased, his voice growing in volume until he was shouting again. "Do you have any idea how much stress this has caused my family? My  _son_  having to leave his friends? My wife and I spending money we don't have on  _private_  school, 'cause of  _your_ son?"

Well,  _damn_. If I didn't feel guilty before, I sure as hell did now. I had figured Kurt would be bummed to leave his friends, but I hadn't really thought of how it would affect his family. I hadn't even  _considered_ the fact that Dalton would be expensive. But he was happier there… right?

Dad answered Mr. Hummel with the last defense I would have ever thought he would. "Burt, were you  _always_ so accepting of homosexuals?" I looked over at him with my eyebrows raised to my hairline. "We're the same age… I remember what we used to say about the gays when we were younger." This seemed like a bad strategy. Now not only did Kurt's dad look like he was about to kill someone, but one look at Kurt told me he was, too.

And honestly? Kurt scared me more than his dad did.

Dad must have noticed the look on Kurt's face, too. His sentence trailed off at the end and he leaned away from Kurt's murderous gaze. Then he took a slightly better approach. "Now, it's taken us a long time to figure out what's right," he gestured to me, "Why can't you just allow David the couple months that it's taken  _him_  to figure it out?"

It surprised me that he was using the homophobia line more than the bullying when he talked about what was right and what was wrong. First Rachel, now him with the 'homophobia'. It's not like I hadn't bullied other kids at the school. I wasn't proud of it, and I hadn't harassed them as badly as I had with Kurt, but I didn't think I had given any reason for people to think I targeted Kurt for being gay, and not just for being another loser in Glee club. Were my own personal issues with all this so obvious?

Mr. Hummel began yelling again, answering my dad's question. "Because he said he's gonna kill my son!" Now, I supposed, was as good a time as any to clear  _that_  up once and for all. I tried to reason with him as reasonably but firmly as I could. I didn't want his anger to flare up any worse than it already had. "I never actually  _meant_ that though. It was just a figure of speech—" He interrupted me, my plan for keeping his anger at bay apparently not working. "How's  _he_ supposed to know that?"

Finally, Mr. Schuester spoke up from where he sat, with a tone that said 'you're not helping matters'. "Your words still matter, David."  _You don't think I freaking_ know  _that?_ "I—I know. You have to believe how awful I feel about them. Those ones especially." I turned to Kurt for this part. "That's not me… not anymore." I hated how fake I sounded whenever I opened my mouth in this stupid meeting. I willed him with my eyes as best I could to understand that I meant every word.

Mr. Schuester turned to Kurt. "What do you think, Kurt?" I looked down in guilt and shame, afraid of his answer. When he finally spoke, his voice was slightly hoarse, and lower than usual. Subdued, just like the last time I saw him.  _Frigging Dalton…_  "I believe he… realizes what he did was wrong."

I looked up at him, wondering if he could possibly mean it. The glimmer of hope I'd felt earlier was slowly turning into the real thing. Kurt's dad spoke to him, much more gently than he'd spoken to the rest of us. "You're only saying that because you want to be back in this school so bad." Kurt silently confirmed that by looking back down at his lap, avoiding his dad's eyes and biting his lip.

The hope continued to grow, as I realized that Kurt must not be as happy at Dalton as I'd always thought. Did he and his boyfriend break up or something? Was he tired of having to wear that ridiculous uniform every day? I didn't have a clue, but I sure as hell wouldn't complain if it meant he'd be back at McKinley in a week.

He tentatively spoke again. "Can Dave and I s-speak for a moment alone?"

My stomach twisted intensely—but not at all unpleasantly—at my name coming out of Kurt's mouth. I realized that he'd  _never_ called me 'Dave' before, and I was shocked at the effect it had on me. I only prayed that it wasn't just a show for the parents.

He saw the look of disbelief on his dad's face, and quickly added, "You can wait right outside in the hall." After a moment of hesitation, Mr. Schue shrugged and said, "Let's go," and all four adults left the room.

I immediately started freaking out, painfully conscious of the fact that the last time Kurt and I were alone in a room together, I had lost control and kissed him. I looked at my dad pleadingly, but he just patted my knee and left. I began to breathe heavily, chancing a look over at Kurt. He was looking down at his hands folded in his lap. He looked so vulnerable and so restrained and just so… not Kurt. I realized how much I _missed_ the old Kurt. I barely recognized him anymore. But he looked like he was almost about to cry, and I  _really_ didn't think I could handle a crying Kurt.

However, I realized I needed to suck it up and just go with whatever happened. So I took a deep breath and braced myself, trying to avoid looking at him directly.

Suddenly, his head snapped up. He fixed me with another blue-eyed glare, and he suddenly didn't look so much like he was about to cry anymore. In fact, I could see a hint of the old Kurt starting to come out of its shell. "What's your angle here?"

Well I sure as hell wasn't going to tell him  _that._ So I told him  _part_ of the truth, glancing out the window at the crowd of adults and then looking straight into his eyes. "I'm just… trying to make things right." He looked at me like I was out of my mind, and reminded me, "David, I  _know…_ remember? And I haven't told  _anyone._ "

That actually wasn't quite true, but I didn't even think about that. All I could think of was the fact that he kept my secret from everyone in the  _first_ one of these meetings. So I asked him something I'd wanted to _since_  that day. " _Why_? It would have made your life a  _lot_  easier." I hated how my voice sounded so hoarse, strained with the emotion behind the question.

His gaze softened just a little bit, and he answered in a slightly gentler tone. "I don't believe in denying who you are, but I don't believe in outing, either." He nodded minutely, staring straight at me in that silent-conversation way of his again. I savored the moment for the few seconds it lasted, before his voice hardened again. "But still, you  _owe_ me. The truth." I looked down, really considering it. "What's going on here?"

That was when I decided to just go for it. I was lying to my parents, my friends, even my _self,_ half the time. Hell if I was going to lie to Kurt, too. Especially since he was right… I owed him. More than even  _he_ knew.

So I took a deep breath, glanced out the see-through doors one more time, and just let the truth spill out. "It was Santana's idea." From the look on his face, it didn't seem like that's what he thought the first line would be at  _all._ I continued. "She wants to be Prom Queen, so she figures if we can get you  _back,_ we'll get everyone to vote for us." I suddenly felt guilty. The whole thing just sounded so… devious, now.

But when I looked up at him, he was nodding slightly, almost in approval. "I'm both repulsed and impressed by her Lady Macbethian ways." He nodded, still considering. "Hmmm… A Latina Eve Harrington." Ok, that's where he lost me. I narrowed my eyes in confusion, and he noticed right away, sounding almost impatient. "Ok, if you're going to be gay, you simply  _must_ know who that is."

While my mind was doing cartwheels at the fact that he was sounding more and more like the old Kurt Hummel I knew and loved, my mouth was obviously hard-wired to deny any mention of the fact that I was gay. I suddenly found myself saying harshly, "Look, I don't know for sure I  _am_ gay, ok? Stop being such a broken record!"  _No, no, no! You were doing so well!_ I cursed myself for ruining what had probably been the most civil dialogue between me and Kurt.  _Ever._ No one was upset, no one was afraid, no one was being harassed… we were just having a conversation like two normal students. It was nice, to say the least.

I noticed, though, that this was the first time I'd ever acknowledged—out loud, anyway—the fact that I even  _might_ be gay. Surely that had to be a step in the right direction, right? Right?

Luckily, Kurt didn't seem to mind that I'd answered so brusquely. He seemed to be deep in thought. Suddenly, he leaned forward in his chair, smiling a bit mischievously. I would have been worried immediately, but…

I'd never seen him smile before, other than in yearbooks. He had dimples, I noticed. It was… kind of surreal. I suddenly wondered why I'd tried to provoke him in the past. I'd found a pissed-off Kurt so attractive, but it was  _nothing_ compared to a smiling Kurt. It made me… happy.

Until he spoke again.

It was like he knew he was in complete control now—which he was—and was  _enjoying_ it. Which he probably was. "Ok, I have  _several_ options here. I could… tell everyone the  _truth_ about—" I leaned forward in panic, interrupting him. "Dude, I said I'm  _sorry!_  You said you wouldn't do that—!" Before I could freak out too much, he stopped me, sounding pretty reasonable. "Hold on." I shut up. He paused, probably considering his next words and how best to word them. "Or I can return here, and… marvel with pride at your new anti-bullying movement, which I  _fully_ believe in."

He smiled gently, and I suddenly felt so proud. Whether I was forced into this whole thing or not, it was all worth it if I was doing something he believed in.

Then he kept going. "And further demand that you and I start a chapter of PFLAG here at William McKinley." I stayed silent, narrowing my eyes in confusion—again—and focusing more than I should have on the 'you and I' part.

He clarified. "'Parents, family and friends of lesbians and gays.'"

I leaned back on the couch, finally realizing what he was asking me to do. He must have noticed the distress on my face, because he quickly justified his reasons. "You need to be educated, David." I tried unsuccessfully to steady my suddenly racing pulse, which seemed to be triggered by Kurt saying my name. He didn't notice my inner dilemma and continued. "You may not have to… come out, but you  _need_ to be educated."

 _Argh!_ He wasn't playing fair. He could probably get me to do  _anything_ if he used that tone of voice. It wasn't angry or sarcastic or upset or afraid, or really  _any_ other tone he'd used with me in the past. It was gentle and persuasive, and it didn't help that he was still looking me straight in the eyes. I realized he really wanted this to happen.

So I finally did something right. While I didn't come right out and say I agreed, I confirmed it by not fighting it. I knew he'd understand. I sighed heavily and said, mainly to myself, "Oh man, just kill me now…"

I glanced through the window-door one more time, seeing Finn there and wondering why he'd be there. I didn't really care, though. I hadn't been jealous of him for a while, now. It was pretty-boy I had to worry about. Besides… I was still stressing over what I had just signed up for.

But when I saw Kurt smile widely at his dad, so obviously thrilled and eager to be coming back to McKinley, my heart completely melted, and I didn't stress anymore. I just stopped caring about all that.

It made it allworth it.


	25. Born This Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'LIKES BOYS'

By the next day, Kurt was back.

It would have been a happier day for me, but I happened to catch pretty-boy's little goodbye performance with the rest of his stupid little blazered friends at lunch. Apparently they  _hadn't_ broken up.  _Damn…_ Seeing he and Kurt hug afterwards made me want to punch something, but I then remembered I couldn't do that anymore, which just made me  _more_ frustrated.  _Don't they have their_ own  _damn school to be at?_

After that, though, things began to look up. Santana and I were continuing with the Bully Whips, successfully cutting down the McKinley High bullying by at  _least_  eighty percent. The general student body didn't fear me anymore—the bullies we hunted down were a different story—and I found that I  _liked_ not terrifying everyone in my path. Slowly but surely, I was changing from a villain to a hero.

A few days after Kurt's return, Santana found me during a free period and dragged me to the auditorium. She didn't say what it was for; just vaguely saying it would be 'good for me'. I didn't ask why she was wearing a shirt that said 'LEBANESE' on it, though I knew full well she was Latina.

We sat near the back, and I sank down in my seat, wondering why the hell she was making me watch a Glee club performance. I didn't even know what they would be singing.

Suddenly, the lights and music came up, and Kurt was standing in the center of the stage. My chest twisted at the sight of his spiked hair and his zombie expression. Then, he began to sing.  _"It doesn't matter if you love_ him… _or capital H-I-M…"_  I stopped breathing at the sound of his voice, low and intense. He cocked his head to the side twice, then raised his arms above him. He continued singing.  _"Just put your paws up… 'cause you were born this way… baby."_

Ok, he was going to have to stop with that tone  _soon_ , before I went completely crazy.

Mercedes and Tina walked in from offstage to either side of him, grabbing at his jacket. He dropped his arms, and fixed his 'audience' with a deep gaze. Suddenly, the two girls ripped his jacket open. The shirt he wore underneath was plain; a fitted white tee with only two words in big black letters, the same lettering on Santana's shirt.

'LIKES BOYS'

I'd always known that Kurt was braver than I was. Actually, it took me a while to realize it, but when I did, it was clear. I never again doubted it. It had just never been so… concrete before. It was a symbol of the difference between him and I, that shirt. He was up onstage, wearing it proudly and singing a song about being who you are and embracing everything about yourself, and where was  _I?_  Sitting in the audience with my fake girlfriend, who, incidentally, was in the exact same position  _I_ was.

For a few minutes, during that song, I honestly wondered why. Why was I so afraid? What could people possibly do or say that was so horrible that I was willing to put myself through hell every damn day just to avoid it? Why, when all I really wanted was to be up there, singing next to him, with my  _own_ shirt that said, 'ME TOO'.

When I wasn't having internal arguments with myself, I watched Kurt do his thing up on stage. It was amazing seeing him back where he belonged. He seemed so happy up there, I felt guiltier than ever about chasing him away.

I sometimes stopped to listen to the song, realizing that it was the reason Santana brought me here in the first place. Certain lines popped out at me, like,  _"Don't hide yourself in regret…"_ and  _"I was born to be brave…"_ and of course the ever-popular  _"Born this way…"_  which I assumed was the name of the song.

Lyrics and deeper meanings ceased to exist, however, the minute Kurt came back up to the front, stripping off his jacket. I started to feel dizzy, unable to even pay attention to the  _words._ The only thing my brain was capable of focusing on was  _holy crap, hips!_ and  _when the hell did he get so toned?_ I mean, his arms were like…  _wow_.

As if that weren't bad enough, about two seconds later, he was doing some move with the rest of the group where it looked like he was miming sticking a hand down his pants. I swear, I nearly passed out.

Thankfully, the song ended shortly after. I tried unsuccessfully to breathe normally again for the next minute, seeing Santana glance down at her shirt more than once. In the back of my mind, I wondered why she wasn't up there with the rest of them. I didn't care too much, though. I was a little too… distracted at the moment.

That night, I went home and Googled the song. Seeing the artist, I checked and double-checked the lyrics and even iTunes to make sure I wasn't seeing things. When I was sure I wasn't, I came to a realization.

Maybe Lady GaGa wasn't  _so_ bad, after all…


	26. Apologies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It finally clicked for me why Kurt was so hesitant to have the Bully Whips protect him. Kurt didn't need protection. He was stronger than I or anyone else would ever be. For his entire school life, he'd taken every Slushie, every dumpster dive, every pee balloon, and every insult ever thrown at him with his head held high and his confidence never wavering. Even at the worst of my bullying, Kurt had kept quiet about everything, not letting anyone in; not letting anyone else take care of him. He'd just kept taking it and taking it… until he simply couldn't take it anymore.

During the week before prom, it was like all the girls had caught some disease that made them crazier than usual. I think I even saw Quinn making Finn hand out pens with their names on them, trying to get Prom Court votes. No matter where you went, it was "doesn't match my dress" this, or "corsage colors" that. It was getting to be  _beyond_  irritating.

Santana wasn't even my real girlfriend, and she had me totally whipped. She kept dragging me to different clothing stores, trying to find me an outfit that would match hers. I mean, what was the big freaking drama? Black suit, red tie… done. I was pretty sure I could figure it out myself. But  _nooo…_ she kept telling me I needed  _cherry_  red, not  _apple_  red.  _Cherry_  red, not  _maroon_  red.  _Cherry red_ , not  _orange-red!_  I didn't get it. They all just looked like  _freaking red_  to me!  _God!_

Despite the Mad Prom Disease spreading around the school faster than Bieber Fever, I was actually pretty happy. Kurt and Santana had talked about it, and he had agreed to the Bully Whips giving him full-time security to and from classes. For now, Santana had only scheduled me to be a lookout, not wanting to spook Kurt. I agreed, but then she got all crazy with the walkie-talkies and then Kurt didn't want to walk down the hall with her because she was being stupid and…

Then I got my chance to walk Kurt to class.

It may not  _seem_  like a big deal, but it really was to me. A month ago—hell, a  _week_ ago—I was too afraid to even be  _near_  Kurt without some kind of violence attached. And now I was his  _protector_? It felt great. More than that… it felt like I might finally be earning some redemption for myself.

Plus, walking to class together seemed like a very couple-y thing to do. Not that he'd  _ever_ date me, but it had been one of the things I'd wanted to do when I first realized I had a genuine crush on Kurt Hummel.

I didn't want to screw this up, so I did just what I had to. We walked from point A to point B, and I constantly glanced over my shoulder, ready for anything. I acted as professional as I possibly could, not even speaking as we walked down the halls. When we finally reached his classroom, I spoke for the first time, still acting formal and businesslike. "Here we are. Third period. French class. I'm going to Calculus, so wait _beside_ the classroom after the bell rings until I get back to walk you to lunch." I said all this so quickly and to-the-point that I barely registered the embarrassed look on his face.

He nodded a little bit, but didn't move to enter the classroom. He looked like he wanted to say something, so I stayed and waited. Finally, he said, "Have you noticed that no one has said 'boo' to me this week?" I wasn't sure where he was going with this, so I spoke up. "'Cause the Bully Whips are protecting you." I smiled a little, actually proud of the club Santana and I had created. It had turned out to be a really good thing.

Kurt obviously didn't agree, but he humored me with a dry, "Maybe." Then he went on. "But, maybe no one has been harassing me this week because… nobody  _cares._ "

Oh, so  _that's_ what he was getting at. I scoffed and shook my head. "You're dreaming…" He backpedaled a bit. "Ok, look, I'm not saying that everyone in this school is ready to…  _embrace_ the gay, but…"  _Pfft,_ that's _for sure…_ "Maybe at least they've evolved enough to be  _indifferent._ " Oh, if only. He had no idea how much I wanted that to be true. Not for me, but just to make life a little easier for Kurt. He deserved better than what he got at school. So I  _wished_ that everyone was ready to freaking grow up a little, but I knew better.

I must have stayed quiet for too long, because next thing I knew, Kurt changed his tone and said, "I see how miserable you are, Dave."

That struck me. Other people I knew could tell that I was acting weird. My dad knew that I wasn't doing great in school and I was picking on other kids. My friends thought I was whipped by Santana. Teachers just thought I was dumb, or lazy. But no one had been able to see that I was downright  _unhappy._  It really spoke volumes that Kurt was able to see that side of me. And as happy as I was that it was him who could do it, I immediately panicked, wondering if my mask was beginning to crack. Would everyone else see what was going on?

He went on, shrugging a bit. "I could just hate you when you were bullying me, but…  _now_  all I see is your pain." His voice dropped low to a fervent whisper that my chest found hard to take.  _"And you don't have to torture yourself over this."_

To my horror, my eyes began to water, due to the impossibly gentle tone he was using, the fact that he basically said he didn't hate me anymore, and the fact that he  _didn't understand._

Yes, of course being in the closet was one of the things keeping me so miserable. But it was more than that. Something I couldn't even tell Kurt. Something I  _especially_ couldn't tell Kurt.

Because how do you tell someone—who's clearly happy with someone else and had actually  _feared_ you a few weeks ago—that you're in love with them?

I knew I had no shot in hell with Kurt, and it broke my heart. But it wasn't like I could tell  _him_  that. And the only other people that knew I was gay were Santana and Kurt's prissy boyfriend. It was hard having actual conversations with Santana, so I tended to avoid them. Blaine? Are you freaking kidding?

So it was great that Kurt saw how unhappy I was and wanted to help if he could, but that was only half of it. There was only one way he could fix all of it, and I didn't deserve it. Not yet, anyway.

I struggled not to cry, unfortunately letting a few sniffles escape. I looked away, suddenly unable to handle the sincere eye contact we'd held for the last minute. He misread my distress, and tried to lock eyes with me again. "I'm not saying you should come out tomorrow, but…" I found it a little funny that he whispered the part about not having to torture myself, but spoke perfectly clearly when he mentioned coming out. He went on, "…maybe soon the moment will arise where you  _can._ "

Suddenly, a whole bunch of things hit me at once. For one thing, Kurt and I were standing here right now in the middle of having a very important, very deep conversation that could possibly change my life forever. No yelling, no denials… just calm.

Also, it finally clicked for me why Kurt was so hesitant to have the Bully Whips protect him. Kurt didn't  _need_ protection. He was stronger than I or anyone else would  _ever_ be. For his entire school life, he'd taken every Slushie, every dumpster dive, every pee balloon, and every insult ever thrown at him with his head held high and his confidence never wavering. Even at the worst of my bullying, Kurt had kept quiet about everything, not letting anyone in; not letting anyone else take care of him. He'd just kept taking it and taking it… until he simply couldn't take it anymore. And even  _then,_ rather than open up and tell an adult and make his life easier on himself, he hadn't. He had just… left.

Lastly, I realized something I already knew, but had never seen more clearly than that moment.

Kurt was a  _good_ person.

I don't mean to minimize him by just using the word 'good', but it describes him so well. So pure, so good, I literally couldn't think of a reason—justifiable or otherwise—to make this boy hurt at all. Ever. He was standing here, with a guy who had literally _threatened to kill him,_ and was speaking to him with compassion, understanding… even warmth. He wanted  _me_ not to hurt anymore, and was trying to help me overcome my personal demons and obstacles.

I didn't deserve it.

The tears were welling up stronger than ever, and I tried desperately to hold them in. I heard the bell ring, but Kurt made no move to enter the classroom. He just continued to stare at me with a look of concern on his face. After a second of silence, as I struggled to keep myself in control, he asked softly, "What's wrong?"

That did it.

I lost the battle with my emotions, and the tears began to flow freely. There were  _so_ many things that were wrong. Almost everything in my  _life_ was wrong right now. But the worst thing was the fact that there was something I still hadn't really done. Something I  _needed_  to do, if I was ever going to  _really_  have a shot at redemption.

I needed to apologize.

I couldn't expect  _anyone,_ least of all Kurt, to take me seriously in the damn beret. Tugging it off, I slumped against the wall next to me, suddenly so tired and worn out. Taking a shaky breath, I glanced up at Kurt, trying to speak. I soon found it was impossible to look into his beautiful eyes, so full of concern and so ready to listen.

It was wrong beyond wrong that I could look Kurt square in the eye and threaten his life, but I couldn't look in his eyes and apologize. It clearly said there was something wrong with me, as if I didn't know that already.

I tried again, avoiding his eyes at all costs and hating how hoarse my voice sounded. "I'm so…" Another shaky breath. "I'm so freaking sorry, Kurt." I stared down at the floor, trying to ignore the flash of heat that occurred when I said his name—which I found I was able to do now, out loud.

He didn't say anything, so I continued. "I'm just… just so sorry for what I did to you." I cursed myself for not wording that better.  _You coward; you can't even say what you did to him!_ It wasn't that simple, though. There were  _so_ many things I'd done that I was unspeakably sorry for. I couldn't possibly list them all now. But I didn't know how to say so. Kurt finally spoke, his voice almost unbearably sweet and clear.

"I know. I  _know_."

I looked up at him in shock, then smiled softly and nodded when I realized what he was saying. He was basically saying that while he hadn't  _quite_ forgiven me yet—and sure as hell wouldn't be  _forgetting_ anything anytime soon—he understood where it all had come from, and got that I was doing my damnedest to change.

We held each other's gaze then for what seemed like forever, both of us nodding in—what I hoped would be  _permanent_ —peace. However, a tiny, greedy piece of my brain felt that the tone of his voice was the type that was usually followed by an embrace. Or, at the  _very_  least, a soft touch on the arm. Neither of those things happened, of course, but I couldn't find it in me to be  _too_ upset.

I was so caught up in the moment— _holy crap, you and Kurt just had a_ moment!—that I had all but forgotten where we were. Suddenly, some girl walked past us and I snapped back to reality. I put the mask back on as quickly as I could, then tried to ease the awkwardness that arose the moment our gazes broke. It still wasn't unpleasant—at  _all,_ actually—just awkward.

So I said the first thing that came to mind, my eyes flickering up and down his whole frame, taking in the crazy outfit he was wearing today.  _Yep. Definitely back._

"Cool."  _Cool? That's the best you could come up with, dumbass?_ I then realized I was  _basically_ checking him out in the middle of the school hallway, so I forced my eyes to flicker from him to the classroom instead. Then I focused a little more on saying something that  _didn't_ make me sound like a complete moron. Then the perfect word hit me.

"Thanks."

He didn't say anything, but nodded his face towards me. I went speechless again when I took in the sight of his lips so full, it almost looked like he was pouting them on purpose, and his eyes flickering—just for a microsecond—over my face. I forgot how to breathe for just a second and floundered for words, before I remembered what I was here for—and that I would most  _definitely_ be late for class now.  _Oh well._

So I struggled to focus, gently but fervently reminding him, "Just—remember… You  _wait_  for me here, all right?"

Not to be cliché or sappy or anything, but I think both of us knew I was asking more than what was on the surface. However, I don't think he would have  _quite_ realized just how literally I meant it.

I nodded slightly, silently asking him if he understood. He nodded back—surprisingly, since I'm  _sure_ he realized I was asking something deeper—and I nodded once more and walked away.

I stopped in the bathroom on my way to class to rinse my face off a little. I groaned as I looked in the mirror, taking in the sight of my sweaty hair and blotchy face.  _Oh yeah, that's attractive, Dave._ It finally hit me that I just  _cried._ In front of  _Kurt_   _Hummel,_ of all people!  _Dammit!_

But at least now it was all out there. Well—most of it. He still didn't know how I felt about him, and I was ok with that… for now. After that, whenever I walked him from class to class, we talked a bit more. Nothing as serious or cathartic as that first time, but still. It was nice, talking to him the way I would talk to anyone else. And he was  _funny._ His dry and sarcastic humor—that had pissed me off so much in the past—was, I found, one of his best personality features. I found myself laughing more in those few minutes between classes than a whole day with the rest of my jock friends.

However, I spent the next few days trying to analyze the look on his face as I'd walked away after our… talk. It wasn't compassion, it wasn't pity, it wasn't  _any_  of those things. It was… thoughtful, almost. Whatever it was, it gave me a  _really_ good feeling.

It felt like the beginning of something I could really get used to.

_Wait for me..._


	27. Prom Night Disaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I only knew Kate Middleton was because… screw it. I knew who Kate Middleton was because I watched the freaking wedding, okay? And I watched because I wanted to. Don't ask me why. I just wanted to. And I liked it. So… yeah.

_Finally,_ prom night arrived. Just like the good boyfriend I was pretending to be, I picked Santana up at her place around six. Her dress looked great, actually. And I liked that she didn't do anything too elaborate for her hair, like the rest of the girls had. But that was always Santana… simple beauty. She didn't  _need_ to do anything too crazy, because she was already drop-dead gorgeous.

Thankfully, since I was gay, I didn't have to pretend to like her because of it.

We grabbed a bite at McDonalds – she'd wanted to go to Breadstix, but I adamantly refused to sit in a booth with her for the forty-five or so minutes we'd have to spend eating there– then made our way to school, where the AV club had decorated the gym to look… pretty incredible, actually. There were balloons, like,  _everywhere._ The giant, light-up star looked  _amazing._ Even the cheesy, cliché paper streamers made the whole thing look that much better.

As we walked in, after taking the customary 'couples' pictures at the entrance, we immediately got caught up in the beat of the music. I will never, ever in a million years comprehend how the guys of Glee club managed to turn Rebecca Black's  _Friday_ into something I could listen and dance to without wanting to claw out my own eardrums. They made it sound  _awesome…_ a feat I definitely had to give them props for.

I had to admit… I was actually having a good time. I'd seen Kurt standing near the back with Blaine, but rather than dwell on being miserable and paranoid, I let myself enjoy the view. He looked great. Even better than he usually did. Maybe it was the lights and sparkle bouncing off of him, I don't know. But he was  _glowing._  I guess because he dressed so fancy at school every day, I didn't expect he could dress up much more for the prom. I was happily mistaken.

I did register the fact, however, that he was wearing a skirt. Okay, a kilt. But as far as all the guys at this school were probably concerned, it was a damn skirt. So far, though, he hadn't gotten any heat over it.

That worried me even more.

But I decided not to get myself all worked up over something that  _might_ happen. If something  _did_ happen, Santana and I were there to go into Bully Whips mode and keep the peace.

So for the time being, I tried to just have fun at my junior prom and try not to obsess over why little pretty-boy hadn't immediately pulled Kurt out to dance. If  _I_ could, I most certainly would have.

…or so I'd told myself.

Thankfully, Santana didn't pull me out to the middle of the dance floor just yet. We stayed near the punch bowl for the entire song. As hard as I tried, I couldn't stop myself from bopping my head to the beat. Suddenly, that turned into bopping my hands to the beat, too.

It was hilarious when some random girl walked by wearing the same dress Santana was. She stopped dancing and stared as the girl walked away. I was afraid she'd have one of her Spanish tantrums, but apparently the overwhelming thrill of the dance was enough to keep her calm, at the very least giving her the wisdom to pick her battles.

Once the song ended—not without a horde of crazy girls clambering on the stage afterwards—Rachel stepped up to the microphone and began the first slow dance of the night.

I vaguely recognized the song as something I'd heard on the radio a few times, a song called "Jar of Hearts". I'd thought it was kinda pretty, but never thought too much of it. Besides, the original singer's voice annoyed me.

Rachel made it sound beautiful.

Maybe it was the ambiance of the room. Maybe it was the fact that she's had more than her fair share of heartbreak in the past, concerning one Finn Hudson. Maybe it was the fact that  _I've_ had more than my fair share of heartbreak lately, concerning one Kurt Hummel. Whether it was one of those or a messy combination of the three, this particular song and the way it was sung stuck out to me than anything else had lately.

I dutifully pulled Santana into my arms, and proceeded to listen to Rachel's smooth tones, her passionate moments, and her achingly clear motivation. I don't like to think of myself as a big crier, but listening to the raw pain in Rachel's voice made me think of everything about the night that I hated—Kurt being here with his perfect boyfriend, me having to  _watch_  Kurt being here with his perfect boyfriend while having a girl in my arms, the fact that that girl was pining over her best friend who was currently dancing with  _another_ girl (I don't even  _know_ what the hell  _that_ was…)—and all of it made me want to curl up into a ball and sob like a freaking  _chick_.

It didn't help when I glanced over at Kurt, wishing with every fiber of my being that I could be dancing with  _him_ right now, and seeing him looking back at me. I wanted so badly to just break away from Santana and pull him out to the dance floor.

Then I suddenly started to picture what would happen if I did. If I just took his hands and led him to the dance floor, where he deserved to be. Not in the back of the room where it seemed like his stupid boyfriend was keeping him hostage. Once we got there, I would ignore all the whispers and stares, and I would pull his arms around my neck, smiling a small, crooked smile and pleading with my eyes to do this with me. He'd give a small smile and nod, and lock his hands behind my neck. I'd wrap my arms around his waist and run one hand up his back, until I was holding him as close as possible. We'd sway to the music, dancing to a slow song at Prom just like every other happy couple in the room. And then when it was over… we'd be completely tormented by everyone there.

I looked away, trying but unsuccessful at being cool about it. I realized too late that it was the absolute  _worst_ moment to start listening to the song again, registering the lyrics,  _"I wish I had missed the first time that we kissed…"_ and a full sensory memory of  _our_  first kiss hit me like an electric bolt, shattering my insides.

 _Damn_ my awful timing.

I didn't risk looking back over to Kurt for the rest of the song, though I noticed Santana glancing over quite frequently to where Brittany was in the arms of another girl, though I had no idea who that other girl was. Nor did I particularly care at the moment. I was too busy trying to avert my eyes everywhere in the room than where they seemed to be magnetically drawn.

Luckily, the rest of the song passed uneventfully. I wish I could say I stopped wallowing angstily, but I'd be completely lying through my teeth.

Everyone applauded and a few minutes were taken to set up the stage for the next number. Tina and Brittany climbed onstage and took the roles of what looked to be the background singers. I wondered who would be singing the next number, secretly hoping it would be Kurt, when  _Blaine_ of all people climbed up and took the microphone.

I hoped he'd choke on it.

Of  _course_ pretty-boy sung. Of  _freaking_ course. Because  _Blaine's_ just absolutely freaking  _perfect,_ isn't he? He didn't even go to McKinley. I didn't see why he had to hog the spotlight at the prom of a school that wasn't even his. Freaking  _ridiculous._

Then the song began, and of  _course_  he sang like a freaking  _god!_  Why not? He's freaking  _perfect,_ right?

Whatever. He wasn't that great anyway. And the song confused me. Especially when he sang,  _"You are the girl that I've been dreaming of ever since I was a little girl."_ What the hell? Was he a gay guy singing a song originally sung by a lesbian or something? It made no damn sense.

I faked my way through this one, pretending to have fun. Though I admit, I may have gone a bit overboard to seem like I was totally cool. Never again do I let Santana slap me on the ass for the sake of dancing ever again.  _That_ was just awkward for the  _both_ of us.

Fortunately, it was easy to be distracted during this number, because Finn Hudson— _Finn Hudson,_ who wouldn't hurt a fly off the football field, mind you—got into a shoving match with the snobby curly-haired guy who came as Rachel's date. I vaguely remembered him attending McKinley for a little while the year before because he was dating her then as well, too, but I couldn't even remember his name.

The shoving escalated until Finn—again,  _Finn Hudson,_ the guy who sang in the Glee Club and was all  _sensitive_ and in touch with his inner dork or whatever they were in there— _punched_ the guy square in the jaw.

Not that I blamed him. I fantasized about punching pretty-boy in the face numerous times throughout every day.

Predictably, both he and the snooty dude got thrown out by Coach Sylvester, leaving Rachel without a date and Quinn without a date  _and_ a potential Prom King.

Which, shortly after, was about to be announced.

While all the candidates grouped together on either side of the stage, Figgins, in all his awkward glory, climbed up onstage and read off of cue cards. "Will the candidates for King and Queen gather on the stage? The votes are in." We all obeyed, and were soon lined up and ready to hear who had won. "This is the moment you've all been waiting for. Where we announce our Junior Prom King, and also Prom Queen." Santana stood there with a knowing smirk on her face, counting on her hard-earned Bully Whips votes. Lauren glanced over at Puck, who nodded slightly with the same smirk Santana was wearing. I didn't care either way. If I won, great. If not, who cared? What was the worst possible thing that could happen?

Here's a tip: Never,  _ever_ ask yourself that question. There are no exceptions. Just. Don't. Do it.

"Roll the drum, please. And this year's Junior Prom King is…" You could feel the crowd holding their breath. "David Karofsky!"

As the crowd started to cheer, I laughed in an "Oh what? I totally wasn't expecting this!" kind of way and stepped up to accept my crown and scepter. And I had to admit… it  _was_ kinda cool. I quickly glanced at Kurt and saw surprise, but was pleased to see that it was  _just_ surprise, and not anger or anything else. It even looked like he was smiling a little. Almost like he was proud that I'd won. And that meant the world to me.

_God, I'm a sap…_

I may have milked it a little, but I didn't really care. This was more than kinda cool… it was freaking  _amazing._  I held the scepter up and the crowd went even wilder.

Eventually, I made my way over to the Prom King throne and everyone settled down to see who won the big one. "And now your 2011 McKinley High Prom Queen with an overwhelming number of write-in votes is…"

Now, I have no idea why this thought crossed my mind. Actually I do, but it didn't seem as messed-up in my daydream. I thought of how cool it would be, and how the whole school would cheer for us as their Prom King and Queen. I vaguely registered the funny look on Figgins' face, so my last thought the moment before he read the name off the little card was  _wouldn't it be funny if my Prom Queen was—_

"Kurt Hummel."

…

…

…

Silence. Complete radio silence.

It took me a few seconds for the new information to pass through my head, dizzy and buzzing and trying to understand what just happened. But when some idiot in charge of the spotlight pointed it to a wide-eyed Kurt in the audience, my stomach dropped to my feet, and I physically had to fight the urge to throw up. I compromised by gripping my scepter tightly and looking around the room uncomfortably. What I  _really_ wanted to do was jump down and go on a total rampage. Because I  _knew_ who had done this. The whole damn  _school_ had done this. All the jocks, all the Cheerios, and anyone else who couldn't handle anything outside their precious status quo. Whether they had all actually voted, or a few people were in on switching the ballot card, it didn't matter. My urge to jump down off the stage intensified into a white-hot rage as some anonymous jackass wolf-whistled and started clapping, breaking off awkwardly when no one else joined in.

Suddenly, Kurt started to back away. Just a few steps at first, but then he shook his head slightly and ran out of the room. Blaine followed him out immediately, running after him and calling out, "Kurt! Stop!  _Kurt!_ "

My burning desire to tear the jocks apart limb from limb immediately transformed into the desire to run off after Kurt to see if… what? He was okay? He was most obviously  _not_ okay, that much was obvious. I wasn't sure what I could do for him that his stupid little  _boyfriend_  couldn't do, but I desperately wanted to do  _something._

Then I looked around the room and listened to all the whispers and rumors and realized that I couldn't go after him without people wondering if there was something else going on. So, as painful as it was, I stayed put.

I noticed that Santana and Quinn had also stormed out of the room, Brittany and Rachel following behind, but I couldn't care less. So they had lost Prom Queen. Boo-freaking-hoo. I was  _way_ more worried about how Kurt was taking it all.

After more than a few agonizing minutes of buzzing energy through the room—no one had thought to start another song—Kurt hesitantly walked through the side door and made his way up to the stage. Halfway through his entrance, people began to notice his return, and fell absolutely silent. He looked around at them with a sad, disappointed but firm look on his face, as if he were looking down on everyone in the room, despite the earlier humiliation he had to go through. As if he  _knew_ he was so much better than them. And he was.

Figgins walked up to the microphone and leaned in, announcing, "Ladies and gentlemen. Your 2011 Prom Queen, Kurt Hummel."

Without speaking a word, Kurt accepted the crown and scepter from Figgins with a bowed head. I was suddenly angry with him as well. Figgins, I mean. He really should have known better once he saw what was written on that damn ballot card than to actually read it  _out loud._  Why couldn't he lie and just name one of the actual candidates. How hard is it to realize that you hold in your hands what could quite possibly be the most humiliating moment in someone's life, and then make a conscious decision to avoid it by telling a little white lie? He could have read  _anyone's_ name. Quinn. Santana. Hell, he could have said the name of one of the other random girls up there whose names I didn't know. Anyone,  _anyone_ else, rather than freaking  _Kurt Hummel._

Painstakingly slowly, Kurt turned towards the microphone. I mentally screamed at him _no! What are you doing? What could you possibly say to make this better?_ I held my breath and waited the painful hour-long seconds before Kurt inhaled, smiled slightly, and struck a subtle pose.

"Eat your heart out, Kate Middleton."

I only knew Kate Middleton was because… screw it. I knew who Kate Middleton was because I watched the freaking wedding, okay? And I watched because I wanted to. Don't ask me why. I just wanted to. And I liked it. So… yeah.

I tentatively looked around in disbelief as the entire student body slowly but surely began to applaud. It started as a smattering of random claps around the crowd, then grew into full-blown applause, complete with hoots and hollers and cheers _._  The very same group of students who had tried to humiliate this kid was now full of admiration for his ability to stand right back up to them. Tonight, if never again, Kurt Hummel had the complete, undivided respect of his peers.

Figgins patted Kurt on the back— _still_ not happy with him _—_ and walked back up to the microphone. My stomach dropped again when I realized what was coming next, and I had absolutely no idea what my plan was. Through the increasing pressure in my temples, I heard Figgins say, "And now behold the tradition of our 2011 Prom King and Queen sharing their first dance."

The crowd applauded as I rose from my plastic throne and made my way over to where Kurt and Figgins were standing. Kurt was looking straight at me, and that didn't help the nerves twisting in my stomach. I still didn't know what I was going to do once I actually got there, but we made our way down the stairs anyway into the student-made circle that was forming.

Kurt tilted his head slightly towards me and spoke in a low tone. "Now's your moment." I was still having trouble processing anything, as my brain came up with broken, flickering images of my earlier visions of dancing with Kurt, making the room feel  _extremely_ stuffy all of a sudden. So I could hardly be blamed for my lack of understanding, as I responded with a wonderfully articulate, "What?"

Kurt didn't look at me when he responded, looking around at the crowd instead, but still keeping the same hushed, breathless tone that was driving me crazy. "Come out… make a difference."

As if on cue, we reached the middle of the floor and the opening strains of ABBA's 'Dancing Queen'— _really?—_ began. My eyes quickly flickered up to the stage and then immediately back to Kurt.

More bad timing.

His eyes had also flickered over to me, and I just melted. If I had thought Kurt was glowing earlier, now he was…  _wow._ The lights bouncing off the disco ball that had appeared above reflected in the fake jewels in the crown and in his eyes, the soft colors in the room giving his lips a soft pink tint and his face bright and shimmering, and the effect was  _dazzling_. Not only that, but he exhaled deeply and fixed me with this expectant look, just slightly tense. But it was the situation making him tense, it seemed, not me. He had this small smile on his face eerily close to the one I'd pictured earlier. Overall, as unlikely as it sounded, it seemed like Kurt actually  _wanted_ me to dance with him.

And I was ready to throw everything away to do it.

I really was. The buzzing in my head and the constriction in my chest melted away into a warm wave throughout my whole body. In that moment, it felt like the most natural feeling to just want to pull him into my arms—the boy I  _loved—_ and forget everything else for a few minutes. For a few minutes, I could be  _happy._  And I  _desperately_ wanted to.

But then I did something stupid. I started thinking. I started thinking about the consequences that would come from doing what I wanted to do so badly. I thought about the next Monday at school, where not only would my supposed teammates turn on me, but Kurt would probably get it even worse. And I couldn't let that happen.

So I did the hardest thing I've ever done, second only to threatening Kurt's life. As my eyes involuntarily welled up, I breathlessly told Kurt, "…I can't," hoping he understood by the desperate tone in my voice how much as my arms craved to reach out to him. How much I wanted to pull him into my arms and dance with him and kiss his plump, rosy lips. How much I didn't care how sappy—or  _gay,_ really—I was sounding to myself right now.

And then I did what I always end up doing. I turned around and ran out with my proverbial tail between my legs. I realized distantly that I was leaving Santana without a ride, but I was confident she'd figure something else.

It seemed trivial compared to the fact that I had just left Kurt alone to deal with a group of people who had just humiliated him not twenty minutes earlier. I left him in the middle of the dance floor to deal with the savage wolves we call classmates. Before I walked out the double-doors of the gym, I turned back and saw that Blaine had stepped in to save the day.

Figures.

As bitter as I wanted to be about it, I was fiercely glad that he was there. He was what Kurt needed at the moment, because I wasn't strong enough to do it myself. Suddenly, I noticed that Kurt was shooting quick looks in my direction. I wanted so badly to believe that it was because he was concerned about me. However, I refused to meet his eyes and stormed out the double-doors of the gym, out to my car and locking the doors.

I honestly hoped everyone else was having a good time in there, because saying  _my_ night sucked we be the understatement of the millennium. It would be like saying Santana was kinda rude, or that Blaine wasn't that tall, or that I kinda had a thing for Kurt.

I sat there in the car for about twenty minutes, just resting my head on the steering wheel and praying that this whole night had been a nightmare I'd wake up from in a few hours.

My mind began to wander into paranoid territory. I started to wonder why  _I_ had been voted Prom King alongside Kurt as Prom Queen. Was I chosen because I was popular? Then why would they pair me with the guy they were trying to humiliate? They easily could have gone whole hog and picked Finn, or hell, even  _Puckerman_  as Prom King, and humiliate just the people in Glee Club. Why  _me?_  Had someone finally realized the truth? I knew Kurt would never say anything, but who was to say Blaine wouldn't? Or Finn? Or maybe someone else had seen me staring at Sam's ass. My greatest fear was paralyzing me, suffocating me,  _shaking_ me to my core.

_Who else knew my secret?_

I couldn't do this anymore. I couldn't live like this, constantly terrified of someone finding out and destroying my last year in high school. I just wanted to have a nice, normal,  _peaceful_ senior year, without my so-called friends and all their preconceived notions they had about me. I wanted to go away.

I finally started the car and began to drive home, my resolve firming with every mile. I'd finish out the school year, avoiding Kurt as much as humanly possible, and then transfer to a new school to finish out my high school career. There was nothing left here for me anymore. Well, that's not necessarily true. The thought of leaving Kurt behind and possibly never seeing him again broke my heart. But it hurt worse to watch him be tormented day in and day out and not have the courage to do a damn thing about it, even as a Bully Whip.

No… the best thing I could do for Kurt was exit his life completely and finally. He was far better without me around. Besides, he had Blaine. There was nothing I could do for him, at least not at this point in my life.

So that was it. My plans were made. I'd go home and tell my dad immediately. Where would I go? I briefly considered Dalton, where I'd have the best environment for eventually coming out. That plan deflated as quickly as it came. I'm sure Kurt had mentioned me plenty, and I didn't think it would have been in the most complimentary way.

Besides, I  _so_ couldn't rock that uniform.

I'd keep thinking on that one. But for the time being, I felt oddly calm, knowing that I had come to a final decision. Goodbye McKinley High, with your horrible, horrible students. Goodbye Titans, who I really couldn't care less about leaving behind. Goodbye New Directions, I hope you guys get everything you deserve. Goodbye Santana, you crazy bitch… if it weren't for you, I couldn't have made  _half_ the progress I did.

…Goodbye, Kurt Hummel.


	28. So Fancy, Yogi, Mini-Me, and a Man-Whore All Walk Into A Gay Bar…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was later immensely grateful that my first trip wasn't on a Wednesday. I'm cool with Drag Queen Wednesday now, but I don't know how well I would have handled it that first time.

It didn't take much convincing to get my parents to agree to a transfer. They both knew  _something_ was wrong, and I guess they figured that being away from the problem would fix it.  _Whatever_ the problem had been.

It did.

No one at Thurston knew who I was. I had no rep. I was wiser this time around and just kept my head  _down_. People knew my name, and that was about it. No one had any preconceived notions about who I was or about anything in my past. And quite honestly? No one cared.

And I loved it. I didn't realize until a week after school began that a gigantic weight had been lifted off my shoulders. A weight I'd carried since the day I kissed Kurt. I loved him, no doubts there, but I had always been deathly afraid he'd tell someone else. It was bad enough that Blaine and Santana knew. I couldn't handle the pressure of someone else finding out. Not yet, anyway.

The only problem I had with Thurston was that Kurt wasn't there. It was sappy and girly and stupid but I didn't miss him any less than when he had left to Dalton. In fact, it was  _worse_. Back then he had hated me. Not that I had blamed him.  _I_ had hated me, too. But this time around, we had gotten to the point where he had come as close to forgiving me as you could possibly get without actually doing so. It killed me that that had been my cue to flee the environment. But I knew that it was the best thing for  _both_ of us.

It also gave me the time and frame of mind to focus on the next task at hand. Before the whole prom fiasco, I had completely accepted myself… to myself. To Kurt and Santana too, I suppose, but I didn't really count them. It was an accident that they both found out… not because I had come out to them. But I had finally,  _finally_ mustered up enough courage to say, "I'm gay" out loud to myself. It may not seem like a big deal to anyone else, but it was a  _huge_ step for me. I'd been trying to ever since the day I took Kurt's wedding topper in the hallway.

And now that I had actually done it, it didn't seem like this huge, scary thing I'd been so terrified of. It was just a word. Now—at least to myself—saying, "I'm gay" felt the same as saying, "I have brown eyes" or, "I'm seventeen". And even though I wasn't ready to say it to other people, it wasn't because I was afraid of  _being_ gay anymore. It was because I was afraid of their  _reactions_ to me being gay.

But I wanted to get to  _that_  place. I wanted to be the kind of person who  _could_ go to college being comfortable enough to be completely honest about myself. I wanted to be able to come out; at the very least to the people I loved. I hoped it would make Kurt proud, but that wasn't even my greatest motivation anymore. I was doing this for  _me._ If I didn't, I knew I would never be  _able_ to get to  _that_  place.

So I needed to find something.  _Anything_ that could be my outlet. Somewhere where I could practice being openly gay without the fear of judgment, or worse.

So I started doing a little research, calling myself crazy more than once before actually working up the nerve to Google 'Gay bars in Lima, OH'. I was shocked when one actually popped up. The name 'Scandals' freaked me out a little, but I figured it was worth a shot.

So one Friday night, I told my parents I was going to a party at a friend's house and told Azimio that I wouldn't be able to make it to the party. Then I packed up my fake ID—I'm a high school jock… of  _course_ I have a fake ID—and drove down to West Lima. I figured if anything about the place freaked me out too badly, I'd just leave. Simple enough.

(I was later immensely grateful that my first trip wasn't on a Wednesday. I'm cool with Drag Queen Wednesday now, but I don't know how well I would have handled it that first time.)

I didn't realize how badly I was shaking until I walked up to the door and just stared at it. I was about to essentially come out in front of a bar full of complete strangers. Or worse. What if I actually  _knew_ someone in there?

I shook myself out of my panic. Who the hell was I going to run into at a gay bar? The only other gay people I knew were Kurt, Blaine, and Santana. And they already knew about me. So why was I freaking out so badly?

Because this was a  _giant_  step. This was going to be the first time—other than the infamous  _incident_ —that I was going to actually  _act_ onbeing gay. People would know  _for sure_  that I was gay _._ I couldn't deny it. I was taking a huge risk here.

But I was ready.

So I opened the door and walked inside.

* * *

Since then, Scandals had become one of my favorite places in the world.

It wasn't all that 'scandalous', really. It looked like your normal, run-of-the-mill bar—with the added effect of drag queens and dudes grinding up on each other.

I went as often as I could. I was even friendly with some of the regulars, and it was an exhilarating feeling, having everyone in the room know I was gay and  _honestly_  not give a crap. It was like my turf. I felt  _safe_.

Until Kurt Hummel walked in the door.

At the sight of him and his bite-sized boyfriend having their ID's checked, I promptly choked on my beer and hurried off to hide in a corner, attempting to take deep breathes.

I watched as the two of them made their way over to Sebastian Smythe, one of the regulars at Scandals. He was about our age, and a real jerk. I'd asked him once for advice on how to get a guy. He'd basically told me I was fat and had eyebrows like Liberace.

Needless to say, I avoided him like the fricken' plague.

So I was relieved to see that Kurt didn't seem to like him anymore than I did. Blaine, however, was a different story. He cheerfully waved at Sebastian and seemed to wave off any concern Kurt had about the guy. He took the offered beer from Sebastian—who I'd come to think of as the He-Jezebel—and clinked their drinks together. After a few minutes, the two of them headed out to the dance floor, leaving Kurt alone at the bar with what looked like the pinkest Shirley Temple I'd ever seen.

As if I didn't hate Blaine enough.

It was unfathomable to me how Blaine could be lucky enough to have a boyfriend as amazing and gorgeous as Kurt and just leave him sitting alone at a bar while he went and danced with the most blatant man-whore ever.

I took a minute to just look Kurt over. I had hoped that after all these months I'd romanticized him in my mind, and that maybe the next time I saw him, I would laugh at the little schoolboy crush I'd had on him for so long.

No such luck.

He looked amazing. And he was exactly the way I remembered him. His hair was as perfectly styled as ever, and his outfit was simple and muted, but still so well put together that it looked like he just stepped off a runway. My chest twinged a bit when the spinning lights bounced off his face, reminding me of how he'd looked right before I ran out of prom, with the disco lights hitting his eyes and face in a way that made him _shimmer_.

Poor Kurt just sat there sipping his drink, looking completely miserable and watching his dumb-as-a-log boyfriend get his groove on with another guy.

Suddenly, I found myself making my way to the bar where he sat. I panicked slightly before shrugging it off. Oh well. What the hell did I have to lose? It's not like  _he_  thought I was straightor anything. Who cared if he saw me there?

So I spoke to get his attention, heart pounding in my throat, "Better watch your boyfriend." I turned to the bartender. "Can I get another beer, please?" If I was really going to sit here in a  _gay bar,_ of all places, and have a conversation with  _Kurt Hummel_ , of all people, I figured I'd need a little liquid courage.

He looked over at me, startled. Once the recognition settled on his face, he laughed a shocked little laugh. I couldn't help but smile in return.

He wasted no time. "So how's life at your new school?"  _Way to ease into conversation, Kurt._ I didn't mind, though. "Fine."

Kurt didn't drop his gaze, apparently unhappy with my one-word response. He just kept nodding, probably trying to encourage me to go on. I looked away after realizing that I had been smiling like an idiot for just a few beats too long. I shook myself out of it and gave him a more detailed response. "You know… I just wanna have a normal senior year and play football without my teammates hearing rumors about me." I hated how hoarse my voice sounded, shaky with nerves.

His smile faded into a small grimace and his eyes narrowed, just enough for his expression to go from pleasantly surprised to annoyed in half a second. He leaned in slightly, driving my already frayed nerves to the extreme when I could faintly smell his cologne. I took a sip of my beer to distract myself. He spoke in a tone that matched his expression. "Just to let you know, I would have never told anyone. It's not who I am."

He leaned back and turned slightly to look back at his boyfriend and man-whore on the dance floor as I nodded in response. I had forgotten how defensive he'd been about that. Clearly he felt strongly about the whole issue of outing other people. I admired that more than he knew.

It made me feel ridiculous for even worrying about it when I'd been at McKinley. Even at the worst of times, he'd never tried to use my secret against me. Quite honestly, that had been what made me realize I was in love with him, way back at that first meeting we'd had with our parents. I mean sure… maybe he'd kind of implied that he'd use it as blackmail material at the  _second_ parent meeting, but I highly doubted now that he would have actually done it.

He broke my reverie by tearing his eyes away from the dance floor, most likely trying to ignore it as much as humanly possible. I took another swig of beer as he attempted to change the subject, not even looking up from the bar. "So you come here all the time?"

I smiled. "People like me here. I feel accepted." He finally looked back up at me with those wide blue eyes. Then he smiled, looking happy that I'd finally made some good progress from the last time we saw each other.

I laughed a little, remembering what a few guys here had told me when I first started coming to Scandals, and debated telling Kurt.  _Oh what the hell…_ "I'm what they call a 'bear cub'."

He blinked confusedly. "Because you look like Yogi?"

I laughed quietly, dropping my head down in disbelief.  _Kurt freaking Hummel_ , the most flamboyantly out there gay I'd ever met—besides Mr. Ryerson, of course—didn't even know what a basic gay term like 'bear' meant. And  _I_ did. I mean… I'd figured he was an innocent little thing but…  _wow_.

Adorable. Absolutely adorable.

I tried to explain it to him, trying unsuccessfully to ignore the irony of the situation. Dave Karofsky, closet-case extraordinaire, teaching Kurt 'I have no closet' Hummel what a 'bear' was. "I don't know… because I'm burly or something?" He snorted a little, turning to his drink and smiling almost doubtfully. My defenses immediately shot up. "Wha—so… so is this the point where you judge me?"

_Why, Dave? Why do you have to ruin every conversation by being a defensive crazy person?_

He did a double take and looked at me with earnest, wide eyes. "No. As long as you're not beating people up, I—I'm all for being whoever you have to be… at your own speed." I tensed slightly when he mentioned beating people up, but relaxed as he shot a tiny, shy smile my way.

I'd never seen him smile like that before.

 _Damn_.

I dropped eye contact for a moment, trying to collect myself before I did something stupid—like cry in front of him again. Kurt shot another look over his shoulder out at the dance floor. Blaine was  _still_ out there dancing with Sebastian, apparently oblivious to mine and Kurt's entire conversation. He didn't glance back over here  _once_.

I was suddenly so indescribably angry with him. He didn't  _deserve_ Kurt. I wasn't saying that  _I_ did either, but if he were a good boyfriend, he wouldn't have left Kurt up at the bar all by himself. It clearly wasn't Kurt's scene, and it may very well have been his first time  _going_ to a bar, much less a  _gay_ bar, where it was more likely he would get picked up, or worse. And he was underage. And  _tiny._

What if it hadn't been me to come up and talk to him? What if it had been a creepy old dude? I knew a lot of the regulars here, and I knew none of them were sinister or anything, but I didn't know  _everyone._  I doubted at this point that Blaine would have even noticed if Kurt wasn't at the bar anymore. Didn't he  _care?_

I didn't have anyone my first time coming here. But Kurt should.

So, in this moment at least, I would try my damnedest to be that person. I tried to contain the anger in my voice and just be there as a friend for Kurt, picking up the conversation where we left off. "Right now, I'm just trying to get through high school."

He looked up at me and… something changed. I didn't know exactly what, but I liked it. His eyebrows rose just a little, and I saw something in his eyes that hadn't been there before. It was almost like fear, but not really. More like… interest. I'm not saying he was interested in me, but interested in… something. There was something there I couldn't quite put my finger on. A spark of something I liked. He just stared back at me, his mouth dropping open faintly for just a moment before he pulled in a shaky breath and composed himself, his eyes fluttering just slightly.

My heart swelled, my mood instantly lifting. I lifted my beer to propose a toast. "Here's to baby steps." He smiled a little and clinked his glass against my bottle.

"Baby steps."

I took another swig of my beer as he daintily sipped his Shirley Temple through its frighteningly pink straw. I watched him with a lightness I've never felt in his presence before.

I didn't realize it until much later, but I was pretty sure that what I felt was forgiveness.

He took one last look out to the dance floor, where Mini-me must have finally realized that he had a freaking  _boyfriend_. He shot a come-hither look at Kurt, and all I wanted was to punch him in his ungrateful little jaw.

Kurt, however, clearly didn't share my feelings. He smiled at me in farewell and set his drink down. I smiled sadly and nodded in surrender, looking quickly at my drink so I didn't have to watch the rest of the scene unfold and start sobbing or something stupid like that. I picked at the paper label for half a second before realizing that the rest of my night would be ruined if I had to watch Kurt and the idiot getting their freak on three feet away from me on the dance floor. So I took one last swig of my beer and got up to leave.

Unfortunately, the dance floor sat  _right_ between the bar and the exit, so I'd have to push past the both of them if I wanted to leave. So I forced myself to look over Lord Farquad's head—no trouble there—and let this be how I remembered Kurt, if I never saw him again. As happy, and having fun, and dancing in that horribly uncoordinated, but adorable shimmying way of his. As  _smiling._

Yeah… I definitely wanted to remember him smiling.

**Author's Note:**

> (Reposting all of my fics from my ff.net account in order of publication. I'm there under hpgleek713 if you want to go check it out. Enjoy!)


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